Sacrifice
by Echo Dancer
Summary: An X-man is given as a peace offering to alien emperor to save Earth - a deeply troubled man who has intense, personal interest in his newest subject. How does Warren cope? Will he ever see home again? Archangel OC. Warning: contains rape scenes... sanitized, but they are intense.
1. Chapter 1

_**IMPORTANT NOTICE (May 2011): "Sacrifice" is being reposted in a new and improved version. This old story will remain uploaded, but if you are visiting for the first time, please consider reading "Sacrifice: Revisited" instead. It is a richer, more detailed telling of Warren's story, and many errors, etc have been corrected in the new version.**_

_**Thank you for your interest and hope to see/hear from you over at "Sacrifice: Revisted!"**_

_**Echo Dancer**_

x x x x x x x x x x x

_Needless to say, I sadly do not own the Marvel characters. Happily, I do own all the others in my version of the Milky Way galaxy. Any how, please read...unless you're squeamish about the warning, then don't. But the violence is stylized, so hopefully you won't be too offended. I love stories of internal conflict, and this story is about as torn and full of turmoil as I could imagine and up for tackling at this time._

_Happy reading!  
Echo Dancer_

**SACRIFICE**

**Prologue**

The Shi'ar Empress received a desperate call for help from Charles Xavier. Such a call meant the situation had to be dire. Charles and his X-men could handle just about anything. But apparently a full-scale invasion of the Earth System by an alien fleet was more than they could deal with on their own.

As the Shi'ar Empress gathered her resources and headed to Earth, Xavier carefully monitored the approaching alien vessels using Cerebro. More than generalities were lost to Xavier by the sheer distance between him and the aliens he was reading. One of the vessels proved impenetrable by his mind – likely psychic dampeners were being employed. But what he continued to pick up from the aliens on the other vessels was that this was not a social visit. They fully intended to take the Earth System for their own, whether by choice or by force. The aliens appeared in no hurry, which would hopefully allow Empress Lilandra time to warp-space jump to Earth with assistance.

Over the next several days, events unfolded quickly. The Shi'ar arrived just as the aliens, known as the Turzents, had settled into orbit around Earth. Xavier was disappointed that Lilandra came with only her Imperial cruiser and two escort ships. Hardly the show of force Xavier had imagined.

Opening communications with the Turzents, the Shi'ar explained Earth's request for assistance. Perhaps diplomatic channels could be established?

Xavier sensed only piqued interest from the Turzents at the Shi'ar interceding on Earth's behalf. They did not react with fear or trepidation as he had hoped. The Turzents seemed merely intrigued that this small, pre spacefaring world had allies such as the Shi'ar.

Through Lilandra and her negotiators, Xavier learned that the Turzents had earlier laid claim to this sector of space. The actual takeover of Earth was just the final step in fully integrating the Earth System into the Empire. He was told that pre-FTL civilizations were sometimes aware of their assimilation into Turzent territory, and other times not. In this case, the Turzent Emperor had decided that Earth would be in the former group.

The Shi'ar negotiators could determine that something specific about Earth had caught the Turzent Emperor's attention. Just what that was, the Turzent diplomats weren't sharing. The Shi'ar diplomats also felt that the Turzent wanted an excuse to interact with the Shi'ar, to learn more about them. That was good – it provided a reason for the Turzents to sit at the negotiating table when otherwise they seemed to have little interest in doing so.

Formal talks were scheduled aboard the Turzent Imperial cruiser. As a subjugated world, the Turzents would not allow any humans at the negotiating table. But they would allow the Shi'ar to represent Earth and Earth would be bound by whatever the Shi'ar agreed to on its behalf. The Emperor would permit a small contingent from Earth to accompany the Shi'ar diplomats, but the humans would remain confined in a highly secure area anytime they were on board the Turzent cruiser.

With the rules of the negotiations established, talks began. At first, the Turzent were unwilling to give on any front. The Earth was simply already theirs. Humans did not possess the ability to wage a successful war for independence, so by default, the Earth was part of the Turzent Empire.

The Shi'ar implied military assistance to defend Earth, but the Turzents weren't buying. It baffled the Shi'ar diplomats that the Turzent negotiators appeared unfazed by the inference. Were they really so self-confident that a threat from the vast Shi'ar Empire had no affect?

At every turn, with every suggested compromise, the Turzents responded with indifference or polite refusal. After two full days of talks, Lilandra's negotiators could win no points and the talks were quickly becoming meaningless.

Something changed during the third day and the Turzents changed their stance. Suddenly, they were ready to discuss options. On demand of the Turzent diplomats, the negotiating team was sequestered on the Turzent cruiser with no communications allowed, not back to the Shi'ar ship nor with the human contingent.

The basis for an agreement was hammered out quickly. By the morning of fifth day, the Turzents presented a written document ready to be signed. In the Turzent-Earth Accord, Earth would remain completely autonomous from the Empire. The Empire would not interfere with Earth internal affairs. There would be no Turzent presence on Earth. The whole Earth system would be completely "hands off."

And still no explanation for the change in position. Their negotiators had asked for very little, except one small concession – just one thing that the Turzents wanted in exchange for Earth's freedom, without which the system would be wholly and completely subjugated to the Empire. Earth would lose all independence and suffer Turzent occupation unless that single term was met.

In the eyes of the Shi'ar negotiators, the price was incredibly small. It would be foolish to turn aside the Accord by refusing this one, simple demand.

###

**Chapter One**

**Concession**

Xavier was stunned silent. His hands shook in anger as he held the computer pad in a tight grip. Carefully, he reread the shocking paragraphs in the translated document to make sure he hadn't misunderstood the meaning. Looking up at Lilandra who stood beside his chair, she responded to the question he hadn't yet asked.

Lilandra placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "I am uncertain as to why that specific demand, and the Turzent team is not elaborating, but this is their final offer. Even if Earth submits willingly to the Empire, the price remains the same for _autonomy_. They are unyielding on that."

"_NO_! I will not surrender an X-man to the Turzents! I will sacrifice _no_ human – not like this. Do you really expect me to simply hand them Warren?" Charles Xavier was angry beyond rage. "To what purpose? What are the Empire's intentions? This I cannot – _will_ not agree to!" he yelled, throwing the handheld device to the table.

"The agreement ensures the autonomy of your _planet_, Charles. Though we could not negotiate keeping Earth outside of the Turzent Empire, we did secure its independence, its right to self-govern. That was no small feat! With this agreement, there will be no contact with the Turzent government, no interference." Lilandra pulled a chair from the table and seated herself in front of Xavier. She looked him in the eyes in an attempt to re establish a rapport.

"Your people never need to know how close they came to domination." She let that settle for a few moments. "Being within the Turzent Empire will have its advantages. Earth gains Turzent protection against any outside threats. Despite the personal price, the treaty is a good one, Charles."

"It's for that protection we have maintained diplomatic ties with you and _your_ government, Lilandra," Charles retorted with acid.

"If only my government truly felt a desire to protect your world. Sadly, after my reign is over I cannot guarantee that protection will continue. You see no military here to aid you now, Charles. No show of force. My people have little reason to expend resources this far from home. Only through my personal authority has that been the case in the past. But my time will pass and Earth will be without a guardian." Again, Lilandra allowed Charles time to absorb her words.

"If I step outside myself and look at the agreement with pure logic, I would agree with you. This is the best outcome one could negotiate – actually, better than one would have any reason to expect given the circumstances. But I cannot reconcile the morality of this agreement."

"So you refuse the offer – at what price? I have already told you the Shi'ar will likely not intercede militarily on Earth's behalf. Earth does not have the technology or depth of resources to ward off the Turzents for more than a few days, even with the help of your mutant heroes. And if you chose to fight, what would the cost be in human lives and suffering? In the end, your planet still falls to them, yet another conquest for their Emperor. Easy, little resources expended…an incident that barely registers in their historical records. Your race is subjugated with little hope for its future. Is that the outcome you desire?"

Charles shook his head, "Of course not. There must be another price the Turzents are willing to accept. Something else they desire…"

"We have explored those options. At this point, my advisors and I don't believe it's what the Turzent _Empire_ wants, we agree this is something Emperor Ztar _himself_ wants. Otherwise, this agreement makes no sense."

Xavier refused to believe there were no other options – there are always options, even if you have to create them yourself.

"There is something Ztar is gaining personally from this. I don't like the places that line of thinking takes me. We need to find out what that he gains and use it to our advantage."

"I'm sorry, Charles, but there is no time. The Turzents gave us a strict deadline to either accept or decline the offer. We believe they have discovered or surmised the lack of Shi'ar will to defend your world." Lilandra's voice soften once again and Charles stiffened. "As your representative, you entrusted Earth's future to me. The treaty has already been signed." Lilandra said, drawing a breath.

Xavier looked with disbelief at this alien woman in whose hands they had placed mankind's future. How could she have agreed to this without consulting him? How could she believe this was _acceptable_? This betrayal would not stand! His anger boiled over and his body shuddered.

Charles looked coldly at Lilandra with a rage she had not seen before. She pulled back from the intensity.

He would cut her down with one mental blow for this outrage! In that uncontrolled moment, Xavier might have acted on his impulse if not for the psychic dampeners on the Turzent cruiser.

"_How_ could you have made that decision without consulting me? This is _Warren_ we're talking about – a human being! Not some piece of- of _property_!"

Lilandra leaned closer despite Xavier's threatening stance. "Charles, I know what Warren means to you. He was one of your first chosen and he is like a son to you. You love him as a parent loves a child. You have been through much together. He is also your friend. Warren is, in a way, more special to you than most of the others…so strong in spirit, yet so gentle in nature. One of your X-men with the least power, but with more strength and courage than most. All these things I _know_, Charles." As she spoke, she watched Xavier closely. She gently took Charles' hand into hers. He resisted at first, then let her hold it.

"That is why I could not burden you with choosing. The pain will be nearly unbearable as it is – it would have _destroyed_ you if the choice had been yours. Because in the end, I know you would have chosen to save your world. And, I believe Warren would do the same. One life in exchange for millions – Warren would choose this."

He closed his eyes to blot her out; to calm himself. Charles was far too experienced with seemingly hopeless, unjustifiable circumstances to continue to feed his anger – it served no purpose. 'Emotionally, you're a wreck, Charles,' he told himself. 'Get a grip!'

The Empress in front of him had helped them numerous times. They shared a permanent psychic connection. He knew her – trusted her. Or at least _had_ trusted her. He fought to reconcile what she had just done to all she had done before. All they had been through together. In his mind, he used the scales to weigh her previous actions and intentions against this decision. Those scales still tipped in her favor.

He remained silent for a long while and Lilandra allowed him the time. She understood him well and knew that he was working to regain control and review the situation from a more detached perspective. Only when she saw his features soften and his shoulders sag, did she speak.

"Charles," her voice was gentle, caring. He opened his eyes and looked into hers. "This I would not have agreed to had there been any other option. You _must_ know that. The Turzents pushed, we stepped back for the good of your people. You may never forgive me, but I hope in time you will come to understand that what we did was for the sake of your world and its future. This is the _very best_ we could secure on your behalf."

"There were no alternatives?" His voice nearly a whisper.

"None, Charles."

"The deal is air-tight? The Earth is safe?"

"Yes. My negotiators are very skilled. The Accord has no vacuities the Turzents can exploit."

Charles was still for a moment, then slammed his fist against the table top so fiercely that Lilandra feared he may have broken bones. "_Damn_ it, Lilandra. This isn't right! This is _immoral_!" She only nodded. She did not have to say that in war and conquest, there is very little morality – Charles Xavier knew that all too well.

He looked at her and a tear unashamedly ran down his face. She was right. In the end, Charles would have made the decision to save Earth even with a price this high. And likewise, given no option, he truly believed Warren would sacrifice himself as well.

"Warren has already been through too much. Why couldn't it have been someone else?" Xavier didn't expect an answer. Lilandra laid her hand over his fist still resting on the table.

His voice was shaky when he asked, "How do I tell him? What can I _say_?"

The Shi'ar and Turzents understood the situation would be explosive if the X-men were still on board when they heard the news. Measures had already been taken to ensure that would not happen. Lilandra had asked that Charles remain behind so she could inform him personally. He would not hear this from anyone else – she owed him that.

"Your X-men are already on their way back to Earth, Charles. They were separated from Archangel under false pretenses to avoid any confrontations and do not yet know the treaty has been signed. The Turzents demanded you have no further contact with Warren. It is done, Charles." She said with finality. "I am deeply sorry for your loss. My heart bleeds for you and Warren today."

Their eyes met once again and he knew without a telepathic connection that she spoke truthfully.

Then the powerful, reserved Charles Xavier cried in Empress's arms.

###

After waiting impatiently for some time in a small conference with two his Turzent escorts, word came that Xavier was available to meet. Warren and the escorts traversed several corridors and a couple ship decks before stopping in front of an entrance. One of the pair of Turzent guards on either side activated the door to what appeared to be a large meeting area. Once inside the room, the door slide shut silently behind them. The room was already occupied by several armed Shi'ar guards standing at the far end of the room. Two more flanked either side of the door they just came through. Warren recognized the stun guns the Shi'ar guards carried – probably the only weapons the Turzent would allow them to carry on board. But then again, why guns and guards at all?

In the center of the room, two male Turzents and a female and male Shi'ar, all in formal attire gathered. 'Negotiators?' Warren wondered. However, the person he had expected to see was not there.

"Where's Xavier?" he inquired of his escorts.

The escorts remained silent, only indicating with a gesture that he continue toward the foursome at the room's center. Once near the Turzent and Shi'ar gathering, the escorts addressed the Shi'ar pair. "As you requested," and they melted away behind Warren.

'This doesn't feel right,' Warren thought. A tiny, unconscious flick of his wings was the only outward sign he sensed trouble. A sign his fellow X-men would have picked up on, but was lost on the aliens.

"Where is Charles Xavier? I was told he wanted to see me."

The practiced poker-face of the Shi'ar in front of him furthered Warren's unease.

"Actually, it was I that wanted to see you. I am Charize, Imperial Negotiator for the Empress." Looking toward his companion, Charize continued. "This is Arizai, my aide. I am to inform you that the treaty between the Earth System and the Turzent Empire has been signed."

Warren was taken aback.

"Already?"

He thought the negotiations would take a heck of a lot more time, maybe weeks. As head of a large corporation, he understood the minutia that goes into deal-making. And why tell him away from the others? Or were they all being told separately because the news was not good. X-men can be 'difficult' when things don't go their way. Warren smiled inwardly at that thought. But separated, they could be better controlled, or at least more easily contained. Pity the poor group that got Wolverine!

"The initial negotiations were stalled, but we eventually brokered an agreement that was workable," Charize offered. "The Earth remains independent. There will be no interference from the Turzent Empire in your internal affairs. Your star system continues to be within the boundaries of their empire, but your planet is free and self-governed."

Despite the poker-face, this Charize seemed uncomfortable. Warren cocked his head, "This is good news, right?" But the nonverbal signals he was picking up indicated the other proverbial shoe was about to drop.

"Yes, it is _very_ good news. A better outcome than we had expected. Your homeworld is safe, or as safe as any in an uncertain galaxy. Your people are free to continue as before with complete autonomy," the Shi'ar proclaimed with a hint of pride.

"So Earth merrily goes on its way, as if this whole thing never happened?" Warren wanted to be sure he got this right.

The negotiator affirmed, "That is a correct summation of the Accord."

A sinking feeling in the pit of Warren's stomach grew and he had to ask. "What was the _price_ for this freedom?"

Warren studied the Shi'ars carefully as they seem to gather themselves. Their pause gave Warren a few seconds to recheck his surroundings. He steadied himself to not reveal that he knew the Shi'ar guards were no longer at the far end, but had drifted closer. Behind him he also sensed that the exit door was now blocked. The Turzents in formal dress had edged to the far end of the room.

Charize let out a human-like sigh. "Sadly, in all negotiations concessions are made to ensure ultimate success. Our negotiations on behalf of your planet were no different. But in this case, there were only two concessions on our side: that Earth remains within Turzent Empire and…" Charize hesitated, taking in a breath, "and you." Then he and his aide took a slight step backward and watched the human closely. The Shi'ar guards were now very close.

Warren wasn't sure he heard right. Two concessions – Earth still sits inside the Turzent Empire and _him_? 'Don't panic,' he reminded himself. Verify first. But his stomach was already lurching.

He looked Charize in the eyes. "Say again!"

"I deeply regret…there were no other viable options. The Turzent Emperor was firm – you are to go with them." The Shi'ar negotiator was now visibly distressed. That their negotiator felt distress over this _concession_ was of little comfort if Warren understood correctly.

"Are you telling me that the X-men are part of the _bargain_?"

Charize shook his head. "Not the X-men. _You_." Warren's world shifted so violently he thought he might lose balance.

"Please understand, it was that or your planet would fall. You must go with their Emperor."

All of the heightened senses of Archangel, all the years of training as an X-man, mental and physical, all his survival instincts sprang up to Warren's consciousness. The guards next to him could likely be taken out with a single wing swipe and a semi-aerial maneuver would bring down the guards behind him in front of the door, all before these aliens knew what hit them. He wouldn't waste precious moments grabbing a stun gun from the Shi'ar guards. The Turzents outside the meeting room had much bigger, and Warren assumed, more powerful weapons. He'd disarm those guards and then take whatever obstacles came his way until he could locate an escape route – or the other X men. And if the door was locked…well, options came to mind under that scenario, too.

Charize guessed what was going through the human's mind. "Archangel, you must not resist or the Earth goes to the Turzents. Be calm, I beg you!" he raised his voice to cut through the adrenaline Charize knew by now was coursing through the mutant's veins.

Archangel heard the words and knew he understood the situation all too clearly. He was being turned over to the Turzents. Flashes of Apocalypse raced through his mind. He would not allow that to happen again – he would _die_ first!

He snapped open his wings hard and fast hitting the guards on either side of him, the impact felling them in opposite directions. In the same motion, he sprang into the air and in a somersault maneuver took out the two guards by the exit door.

"Archangel – you jeopardize the treaty! Please, you must calm down!"

Archangel dimly heard Charize's pleas simultaneously with the soft click of weaponry from the remaining guards. Before his feet hit the floor, his hand was on the control panel for the door. But it didn't open. 'Locked!' his mind screamed.

Propelling himself into the air, he closed the distance between himself and Charize so fast none of the guards got off a shot. He had the negotiator of this concession by the throat in a blink of an eye. Positioning Charize between him and everyone else in the room, Archangel held tight to his hostage.

Turzent and Shi'ar alike stood motionless and silent.

"Open that fucking door _now_!" Archangel yelled at the guards.

They did not respond. A glance between Charize and his aide signaled a delegation of authority. Arizai responded to Archangel's command.

"Mr. Worthington." she started, hoping to begin shifting him out of Archangel mode. "You don't yet understand the consequences of your actions. You must listen to me and remain calm. No one is going to hurt you or approach you. No one outside this room knows what is transpiring here. This is between us." She waited for him to process that information.

Arizai knew that Charize was in no real danger. Shi'ar are many times stronger than humans and he could wrest himself free from Archangel's necklock at any time. But Arizai and Clarice had anticipated this possible sequence of events. Right now, Archangel needed to feel some sort of control over the situation before he would listen and comprehend. If he remained in fight or flight mentality, words would do no good and Archangel could be injured – something the Turzent Emperor strictly forbade.

"I've just been bargained over to an alien Empire. What don't I understand? _Open the goddamn door!_" he demanded.

"The treaty states that Earth's freedom is maintained only as long as _you_ comply with the terms. If you do not, Earth becomes a Turzent-occupied world." She let that settle before continuing.

Her monotone voice riled Archangel. It was his _life_ they bargained away. His life was a fucking _concession_. She was acting…they were all acting… like they had been asked only to turn over a booty bag. A flood of emotions swirled within Archangel along side the physical reaction to danger. It nearly staggered him. He fought the adrenaline surge to focus on what Arizai was saying – perhaps she would reveal something he could use.

"The price of Earth's freedom is you," she said as gently as she could. "Submit to their Emperor demands and the Earth remains autonomous. Any disobedience, escape, rescue, or suicide by you voids the agreement and Earth falls immediately under Turzent control." Arizai allowed several seconds to pass before continuing – Archangel needed the time to absorb her words.

"Their Emperor will show humans no mercy in his occupation of your planet if you do not comply. There is no recourse available to you. The Accord is signed and it is without flaw. The choice – _your_ choice – is to comply or Earth is lost. The consequence of your actions is no less than the fate of your homeworld, Mr. Worthington. Do you understand?" Arizai delivered the words calmly, without emotion, hoping to bring this human to his senses quickly. They didn't want to keep Ztar waiting.

Archangel sucked in air. The room was too small – he couldn't breathe. He mind spun out of control, but he managed to grab one coherent thought – "Where are the X-men and the Professor!"

"Mr. Worthington, your friends are safely on their way to Earth as we speak. Charles Xavier is on a shuttle to the Shi'ar cruiser. He, too, is safe. They are in no danger."

"They wouldn't leave me here – you're lying!" Archangel believed that with every fiber of his being. Nothing would stand in the way of his friends in protecting him. No treaty. No Turzent Emperor. No Shi'ar traitors. He tightened his arm around Charize's neck for emphasis.

Arizai knew Emperor Ztar wanted this process to go quickly. But if this was to happen without Archangel being stunned by the guards' weapons or worse, it may take a little extra time. They also needed Archangel to fully understand and accept his situation before being turned over or all may be lost.

She exhaled, and then responded to Archangel. "They would not leave you, that is true. That is also why your friends do not know about you or that the treaty has been signed. Xavier is only being informed now, as we speak."

"They're off-ship?" Warren's heart nearly stopped.

"Yes. Safe, for now. As long as you do as we say, Mr. Worthington. If you do not, I cannot guarantee their safety…or your planet's…" her voice trailed off.

Archangel refused to believe these aliens. The X-men would know something was up. Xavier, despite the Turzent ship's psychic dampeners, would sense _something_ – wouldn't he?

"I want to talk with the Professor – _now_."

Arizai almost said 'not possible,' but caught herself. If the Shi'ar Empress had done her job, Xavier was already fully briefed on the situation and persuaded that this was the only option open to Earth. "Let me see what I can do, Mr. Worthington."

He watched as Arizai walked over to the two Turzent officials. Archangel guessed they were Turzent negotiators or bureaucrats. It made sense that she would approach them as this was their ship and she would need their assistance to contact Xavier. He watched everyone in the room for any sudden movements or suspicious actions – he prided himself on reading body language. Nothing he saw suggested an attempt to free Charize from Archangel's grip. This steadied him.

Arizai quietly conferred with the Turzents and all agreed this scenario had been anticipated (along with several other possible scenarios). A quick comm call to central communications linked the Turzent conference room to Empress Lilandra's shuttle. Central communications quickly confirmed with the Empress' aide that indeed Lilandra and Xavier had finished their meeting and Xavier had understood the position his planet was in without the cooperation of Archangel. In less than three minutes, a comlink was in place.

Three minutes is an eternity when you've been given a death sentence, or at least that is how Archangel was viewing this. What did the Turzents want with him? Genetic experiments? Slide and dice him to create their own superbeings? Why him? Other X men were far more powerful.

He didn't believe the others were safe or that they hadn't suspected something was up. In Wolverine's instincts alone he would plant that belief. It made more sense that they split up the X-men to have a better chance at containing them and they were all being turned over to the Turzents. A treaty to ensure the future of Earth that sacrificed a few mutants – what leaders on Earth would strongly object to that? A small price, they'd say.

Archangel checked in with himself physically. The longer he thought; the longer he waited on Arizai, the less his adrenaline pumped. Coming down from an adrenaline high can be debilitating. He had to remain at peak as long as possible to have any chance against his captors. Archangel needed to stay very angry.

He didn't fool himself about the odds of escape from the Turzent cruiser. According to intelligence reports the Shi'ar shared with the X-men, the Turzents were physically powerful, extremely intelligent, and cunning. Their technology rivaled the Shi'ar's. No, if Archangel was to regain his freedom, it would most likely come about only with help from others. He needed his friends!

'_Damn_, what is taking so long!' he yelled in his head. "I'm tired of waiting. This ends now!" Archangel snarled at the Shi'ar and Turzent officials huddled around what was obviously a communication panel.

Arizai turned to face Archangel. "We have established a link with the Empress' shuttle. We are just waiting for Mr. Xavier to arrive at their conference room."

'Good,' Archangel said to himself. 'At if it's not really the Professor, I'm doing my best to break this Shi'ar's neck regardless of the consequences!'

###

On the Shi'ar shuttle, Xavier is numb. "Lilandra, what you ask is more than I can do. I have already given up someone more dear to me than life itself. Now you ask that I command him to stand down and submit to his captors?"

Lilandra held Charles' shaking hand. Seeing and sensing his pain was almost more than she could bear. "My dear Charles. This is cruel beyond imaging. But Warren needs to go quietly with the Turzents. He must understand what is at stake. Right now, he will listen only to you – believe only you. He will do as you command…what must be done." Her voice was barely above a whisper at the end. She was quiet for several moments while Charles gathered himself.

"I'll be here, at your side. Let me lend you my strength," she offered, squeezing his hand tightly.

Charles mentally attempted to separate himself from the situation, to somehow detach from himself. This will be one of, if not the most difficult points in his life. But Charles fully understood that the price of failure was the home of 6.5 billion humans. You do not give in to unchecked emotions or focus on the personal cost at this defining moment. You do what must be done. He straightened himself in his chair.

Lilandra watched her one-time royal consort prepare himself and she was more proud of him this day than ever before. And more heart sick and ashamed than she had been in a very long time.

"I am ready," he said without emotion.

###

The view panel in the Turzent meeting room came to life. Xavier's face filled the screen. "Warren?"

"Professor, what the hell is going on? Where are you? Where are the X-men? You won't believe the bull they're feeding me about the treaty and…and about _me_!" Archangel's anger resurged as he demanded answers.

"W-warren…" Charles' voice faltered. Archangel picked up on it immediately. He had known this man since he was a teenager. Something was desperately wrong.

"Professor, what's going on?"

"Warren, please let Charize go. You'll gain nothing by harming him." Charles knew Warren likely couldn't seriously hurt the Shi'ar negotiator without a weapon. He also surmised that Warren also knew he could do no serious harm to a being several times stronger and tougher than himself. It was an act of desperation that the Shi'ar were obviously willing to tolerate.

"Not until I have some answers!" he continued to watch the image closely, needing to determine if this really was Xavier or Turzent trickery.

"Very well." Lilandra watched Xavier's hands hold the chair arms in a death grip. But his face was soft without a hint of the anguish she knew he was enduring. Xavier continued, "I am in a shuttle getting ready to dock with the Shi'ar Imperial Cruiser. I am free and unharmed. The rest of the X-men are likely already back at the mansion – also free and unharmed. They have been told that I will be joining them soon as the negotiations have stalled and everyone is taking a break before trying again."

"They wouldn't leave without me!" Archangel challenged.

"They believe you to be with me, Warren. They are uncertain as to _why_ I requested your presence, but they trust the Shi'ar because _I_ do and that's what the Shi'ar told them. Once we-"

"_You_ wouldn't leave me!" Archangel was realizing this truly was Xavier – everything about him read right. That realization drove his fear higher.

Xavier's nearly crumbled under the words. For a moment, he nearly surrendered a world to save this one human. But in true Xavier form, he pushed aside his emotions as best he could to do what he must.

"I would not _willing_ leave you, Warren. You are like a s-son to me. I would give my own life…"

Lilandra saw Charles' tight control over his emotions loosen again. This must end quickly for everyone's sake. "Charles," she whispered, "the treaty." She watched as Xavier fought for self control.

"Warren, there is no other way to say this that will make it easier. The situation is as the Shi'ar have told you."

"You don't know _what_ they've told me – you're not _here_!" Archangel cried. His world had begun to crumble; shattering in slow motion.

Xavier braced himself to speak the most agonizing words he would ever speak. "Warren, you must go with the Turzent. If you do not, the Earth loses its freedom and the Turzents will rule."

"_No_!" Archangel shoved Charize aside and took several steps toward the viewscreen on the wall. The others in the room melted to the sides of the room.

"It's not true! It c-can't b-be!" He voice cracked as he cried in numbing disbelief. The room fell away and Archangel's world became only Xavier's image and voice.

"I'm so sorry – it's out of our hands. There's nothing we can do to help you. If we try-" Charles voice broke, he choked and swallowed, a tear running down his face.

Archangel had watched Xavier with intense desperation, looking for any sign, any hope that this was not the man that was a second father. But when Xavier started to break down, he knew this was truly Xavier. His last hope evaporated. His legs gave out and he sank to the floor, looking up at the screen. "_Professor_…" he pleaded.

Lilandra wasn't sure if Charles would be able to continue. His strength once again amazed her as he gathered himself for the sake of a planet.

"Archangel!" Charles said sternly. Lilandra knew by the change in how he addressed Warren what was coming next – and it would be a blade through the heart of the X-man.

Xavier's voice was like steel as he continued. "Archangel, you will go _quietly_ with the Turzent. You will not attempt to escape, nor will there be any attempt by the X-men to rescue you. You will do as you are commanded by their Emperor." Each command Xavier uttered brought more horror to Archangel's face. "You will not attempt to harm any Turzent. You will not bring harm to yourself. You will do this for the sake of mankind."

The world shattered around him and the Archangel persona melted away – only Warren remained. This man had practically raised him from a teenager. Had trained him to be an X-man. Fought at his side. They'd been to hell and back together more times than Warren could count. Yet this man he considered a mentor, a friend, and confidante, just told him to go quietly with the enemy!

He watched Xavier's image – he could tell the older mutant was on the verge of completely breaking down. "_No-o_, Professor! I can-n't…I…this doesn't make sense…this-. There must be something else…_Please!_" Warren begged, his body quaked under a cascade of emotions.

"You have your orders." It was Xavier's last strength. He could say no more.

Xavier could only watch in anguish as the younger mutant struggled to digest what he had heard. He longed to grab Warren, hold him tight, to protect and comfort him. To tell him that in this moment, Charles Xavier, one of the most powerful mutants on Earth, just died inside. But not before Xavier fatally mindblasted every Turzent on that ship!

Rage and horror again surged to the surface within Xavier as he watch Warren's head bow to the floor, his wings folded tightly around him in a protective position. Then Xavier's shame for the betrayal crushed him.

Lilandra knew Xavier could endure or do no more – further contact would simply prolong the agony. She pressed the control on the viewer console to end the link and then drew Charles into her arms. At first he resisted her embrace – her people bartered this atrocity. But then, he reminded himself, they also had saved his planet from hostile occupation. And they wept.

###

There comes a point when too much is too much. Combined memories of the horrors Warren endured at the hands of Apocalypse, an inability to find a reason for this latest subjugation, Xavier's betrayal, and the future of Earth resting on his cooperation with his captors. The mind deals with these situations as best it can. With the fight or flight option no longer available, it detaches, giving the individual time to deal with the immediate crisis. It was now almost as if all this was happening to someone else and Warren was watching from outside himself.

The aliens in the room had remained still during the exchange with Xavier. Charize and Arizai watched as Archangel remained quietly on the floor, with his head down. While he was visibly trembling, he did seem to be calming – hopefully, for the right reasons. But no one dared yet move – Archangel needed to time collect himself, time these skilled negotiators were willing to give him if it would help make the next step easier. Finally, Archangel righted himself, still holding his wings tight to his body in a defensive position.

'Another few seconds…' Arizai told herself. She was rewarded for her patience.

'Do what they want…for now,' Warren told himself in a detached calmness.

On unsteady legs Archangel got to his feet. He sought out Arizai's face and locked eyes. "Now what?' Warren asked dully.

"Now we go see the Emperor," she answered flatly.

###

Ztar was nearly out of patience. This was taking too long. He wanted to get out of this backwater star system, away from the prying eyes of the Shi'ar, and be done with it. They had learned as much as possible about the Shi'ar without raising too many suspicions. Give him his prize and let's move!

This Earth business had started months ago when Ztar read a scout report about an insignificant star system outside of Turzent space with a single populated planet called Earth. What piqued Ztar's interest, though, was the report of super-powered beings – genetic mutations – that apparently occurred naturally; not created through scientific manipulation. Now _that_ was interesting!

In the weeks that followed, Ztar ordered further stealth investigations of the planet. Everything he learned intrigued him. This planet would be worth adding to his Empire.

In the last few days, Ztar was even more impressed with the backwater planet when they summoned the Shi'ar to their side. This insignificant planet grew more intriguing with every passing day. Now Ztar certainly did not want to abnegate Earth.

Because his ship's psychic dampeners worked on everyone but him, Ztar was free to read the minds of the Shi'ar negotiators and their Empress. He learned the Shi'ar had little desire to come to Earth's aid militarily. The Empress would fight for her Earth friends, but her government likely would not.

Two days of talks, and Ztar grew weary of the meaningless negotiations. He had learned what he wanted about the Shi'ar and was ready to end the discussions and take control of the planet that was already his. Let the Shi'ar decide whether or not they had the stomach to stop him!

Then he decided to take a look at the humans who accompanied the Shi'ar on the third day. A slightly different group had come over from the Shi'ar cruiser that morning. What Ztar saw on the viewscreen changed everything. A creature so magnificent, it took his breath away.

Stealth telepathy was Ztar's specialty. He did it better than anyone – nearly undetectable, especially when the victim's mind was distracted. A single mental probe of the human revealed much. Ztar _must_ have this Archangel! He would give away the whole Earth System for that one.

And so his negotiators were instructed to obtain the human in a manner that guaranteed his complete cooperation. Earth itself, he told them, was the bargaining chip. Now after waiting two long days, Ztar was about to receive his indentured human. Time moved slowly as his anticipation grew. Ztar was tired of waiting.

His staff kept him fully apprised as events unfolded concerning the human to augment Ztar's telepathically monitoring. He preferred dual monitoring in most situations – his senses and information his crew provided. It gave him another perspective on events.

The departure of the rest of the mutants called the X men had been accomplished without incident. Their leader also departed according to plan. The mutant Archangel had put up a bit of resistance. This was expected – Ztar would have been disappointed if human hadn't. The unanticipated conversation between the human called Xavier and Archangel resulted in a delay. However, it had the right effect, so the delay was worthwhile.

All perfectly acceptable; it was just that Ztar was not a patient man. He paced the length of the ship's throne room. Finally, he sensed the Shi'ar and the human approach the antechamber. An aide confirmed they were just outside.

###

Arizai led the way, followed by Warren, Charize, and four Turzent guards. Arizai had done her duty and informed Warren of the protocols to be followed in the Emperor's presence. He replayed those words to keep his mind focused on something relatively benign instead of racing with thoughts of the unimaginable.

"Do not speak until directly addressed by Emperor Ztar," she had explained. "Do not stare into his eyes and keep your head slightly bowed. Do not move unless told or otherwise directed to do so. No threatening gestures or sudden moves. Answer questions, but ask none unless permission is requested and granted by the Emperor. Remain calm and submissive."

Warren's stomach churned at 'submissive.' It foreshadowed things he did not want to contemplate.

When the doors to the throne room opened, it revealed Ztar seated in a large, ornate chair positioned on a riser. Standing at the foot of the riser were two male Turzents in formal attire. Warren recognized one as a Turzent official from the room where he had talked with Xavier, but not the other.

Arizai brought them within a few feet of the throne and stopped – Arizai in front, with Warren and Charize positioned behind. She waited for Ztar to address her. And he did make her wait, for many long seconds. Warren sensed this Ztar liked to make people uncomfortable. But he doubted it had that affect on the Shi'ar – they were used to Imperial rulers. Arizai waited without appearing affronted.

Ztar stood up, standing erect as if to emphasize his stature. Warren studied the Emperor as he kept them waiting. Warren guessed he was nearly seven feet tall – taller by a head than any other Turzent he had seen during his brief time on the ship. Ztar was as powerful in appearance as any major mutant Warren had encountered. Toned and muscular, he looked like he could single handedly fight off a small army. His skin was olive brown and his hair, which could only be described as black crimson, covered his head and trailed down the back of his neck. His eyes were a deep brown with flecks of gold. From Warren brief exposure to other of Ztar's kind, Turzent eyes had no whites and Ztar's were no different. Other than the obvious cosmetic differences, the Turzents and Ztar were remarkably humanoid.

Ztar finally addressed the female Shi'ar. "All is as agreed?" the Emperor's voice was deep and even those few words were filled with the air of an imperial dictator.

"Yes, Emperor. Our presentation of the human named Archangel represents fulfillment of the last term to fully enact the Turzent-Earth Accord."

The Emperor descended the single step to the floor and approached Arizai. A glance from Ztar and she politely stood aside. Ztar took another step that closed the gap between himself and Archangel. Charize stepped sideways, away from Archangel.

'Don't let this guy get to you,' Warren told himself. He held his ground and did not move even as Ztar took another small step to within inches of Warren.

Ztar moved to Archangel's side, looking him up and down, examining his prize. Archangel remained still. The Emperor reached out and gently touched the leading edge of one wing.

Warren jumped as reflexes took over. The Emperor's hand was flung aside as Warren rapidly extended his wings and swung half around to face Ztar. The detachment his mind had shielded him with, fell away. His anger flared as he faced the alien ruler.

Guards brought their weapons up in a microsecond and had them trained on Archangel and the Shi'ar. The Emperor raised his hand in a halt gesture and everyone froze.

Warren swallowed hard – he wasn't sure what to do except freeze like everyone else. 'Earth's on the line – remember that Worthington!' He stayed still in front of the Emperor – even though every fiber of his being wanted to attack.

"Hold your position. Lower your weapons," Ztar commanded and it was so. "Archangel needs to learn how to properly conduct himself and we will allow him a short while to do so." Ztar didn't address that to the room at large, but directly at Archangel.

Ztar looked down at his subject, into the blue eyes that danced with anger. "Turn and face forward as before. You will control yourself or Earth pays for your disobedience."

'Goddamn bastard!' Warren swore to himself.

Warren did as commanded, fists clenched. Again Ztar touch the top edge of Warren's right wing, running his hand down the full length of the wing's reach. Warren fought to suppress a shiver as the hand slid over his feathers, but could not.

A nearly invisible smile crossed Ztar's face at that, then he completed his circle around Archangel until back where he started, facing the mutant. "Much better, Archangel," the Emperor stated flatly.

'Much better my ass, you fucking bastard!' Warren's anger had not abated, but he controlled it for the sake of the planet he called home.

Ztar then turned and addressed Arizai. "I am satisfied. The Accord is in effect as of this moment. It will remain in effect…" Ztar paused and looked Archangel in the eyes, "as long as my newest subject fulfills his obligations under its terms."

It was all Warren could do not to strike out, but Ztar's words rooted him in place.

'You'll pay for this! You'll see! The X-men will make you pay!' Warren vowed silently. Then Xavier's words came back to him. There'd be no rescue. 'Not true – don't believe it! Lies!'

"Thank you, Emperor Ztar." Arizai and Charize then exited the room, their job done.

The guards would have the Shi'ar delegation off his cruiser within minutes. Ztar immediately started toward a door off to one the side of the throne room. "Take Archangel to his chambers. Sukja will attend to him," he commanded his aide as he strode toward the exit.

'_Chambers_? Not cell? What the fuck?' This was getting more bizarre by the moment.

"Yes, Emperor."

As guards and the Turzent at the foot of the throne started moving toward him, Warren took a risk. 'To hell with protocol!' he thought.

"Ztar! At least tell me _why_ I'm here – what you want with me! You _owe_ me that much!" he demanded loudly to Ztar's back.

The room seemed to draw its breath and hold it. Again, people froze in their tracks. Ztar stopped as the door automatically slide open before him, but did not turn around. He seemed to be calculating how to deal with this second breach of conduct. Under other circumstances, Archangel's behavior could have brought about anything from a fist to the face to an agonizing psychic attack.

Ztar considered his options. He would allow the human this outburst. Archangel had a strong spirit that Ztar did not want to completely destroy. Given his plans for Archangel, that spirit could be enriching.

As he turned slowly to face Archangel, Ztar allowed himself a slight smile, though not a friendly one. "What I _demand_ from you, Archangel, is your body…in my bed." Then he swiftly left the room and the door slid close.

###

"_What?"_ Warren stared incredulously at the door Ztar disappeared through. "_What_ did he say?" The implanted universal translators he had received on the Shi'ar vessel must have malfunctioned. That had to be it.

"Archangel, come with me. Ztar's attendant will explain." The aide motioned the guards to move closer.

Warren wasn't budging. "I'm not going _anywhere_ until I get an explanation because what I just heard doesn't make sense. Damn translator isn't working right."

"It's working perfectly," Ztar's aide sighed.

"You can't know that – I'm telling you it didn't work right. I demand you repeat what Ztar said!" he barked.

The aide looked decided annoyed.

"Archangel, in case there is a misunderstanding of your circumstance here, you are in no position to demand anything. You are to obey and submit in any fashion the Emperor chooses. Should you do otherwise, your homeworld is forfeited. If the Emperor wishes for you to be his bedmate, then that's what you'll be." The aide waited. He had generous experience with these situations. Each Imperial companion went through a similar process before they came to accept their position as the Emperor's newest consort. And he'd had many over the years.

"…in my bed." "bedmate" – that couldn't be right. Couldn't be what he was thinking. A mistake – the translations must be wrong.

'Verify, Worthington. Verify first!' the thought rang in his head.

"Bedmate?" he nearly choked on the word.

"Yes, Ztar wishes you to share his bed and that's what you will do. If you do not, your planet will pay for your defiance," the aide said firmly and coldly.

The room spun around Warren as the full meaning of the words took hold.

'Oh my god! No way – no fucking way! This isn't happening. A bad dream. Just need to wake up! Shit!'

One portion of his mind fought to deny what he was hearing. It wasn't entirely effective. Another part of his mind was racing to fully comprehend the ramification of the words. The mental torrent resulted in a myriad of chemicals in his blood system with the expected results – Warren thought he'd vomit.

"Breathe deeply to steady yourself," the aide offered, recognizing the signs. "Focus on my voice and do as I say."

Without conscious decision, Warren breathed in, held it, then exhaled slowly, his breath trembling. 'Okay, get a grip,' He took another deep breath. 'Shit shit shit!'

"I'll do no such thing! This is all a lie – a trick," he spoke with desperation. "I demand to read the Accord – now!"

The aide sighed in irritation. This human had already been more trouble than four of Ztar's previous reluctant companions combined. But the emotional reactions were nearly always the same though. Confusion, disbelief, and denial. He was well versed in how to handle these situations. Quickly evaluating the situation, the aide concluded the most expedient action was to give the human what he requested. Let him see his circumstances in writing.

Pulling out a hand-held device, the aide punched in the appropriate security codes to light up the viewscreen with the text of the Accord. Then he bypassed the preliminary passages of the document to those of interest to Archangel. It was all in intergalactic legalese, but bottom line, Archangel now belonged to Ztar to do with as he pleased. A couple more taps of the screen and the document was translated into the human's written language – 'English' he thought they called it.

"This is the translated version of the Accord, Archangel. I've displayed the terms that relate directly to you. All the terms are quite clear and precise in regard to your position and responsibilities," the aide said handing the device to the human.

Warren snatched it away quickly. This could still be a trick, but they would have needed to gone to a hell of a lot of trouble to create a believable treaty document between the Turzent Empire, the Shi'ar, and Earth that Warren would buy into. His business acumen would pay dividends now.

As he read the clauses of the Accord, his hands began to shake. Earth and the Shi'ar were to deliver him to the Empire in exchange for Earth's autonomy from Turzent rule. Once done, it fell to Warren to safeguard that autonomy – 'Archangel/Warren Worthington III shall submit without resistance in any manner or conduct as dictated by the Emperor.' The document went on to detail in no uncertain terms that failure to submit or obey would immediately jeopardize the general safety and welfare of Earth and its people and the autonomy granted by the agreement.

He found another passage that made him dizzy with implications. 'Archangel/Warren Worthington III is hereby declared the sole property of the Turzent Empire and devoid of any and all rights legally and otherwise granted to sentient beings under Turzent, Shi'ar, and/or Earth law...' His blood seemed to drain away and a chill ran through him.

The words were so cold and dispassionate. Life as he knew it was declared null and void within the words of the Accord. He was no longer a person, only a property item. No rights – no recourse. A fucking piece of property!

There was more, much more, but Warren couldn't bring himself read any further. He doubted he'd find anything to give the document away as a fraud. What he read sounded like a legitimate legal agreement. And it said exactly what everyone was telling him it did.

'Dear God, it can't be for real! The Professor wouldn't have agreed to this – ever! Don't believe it – won't believe it! But it sounds so real – so fucking legal. Oh God. How can this be? If this is valid, I'm fucking screwed. _Screwed_!'

Having given the human ample time to read the most important clauses, the aide spoke once again. "As you can see, the situation is as we've told you. Now we must move along," he said gently removing the device from Archangel's hands.

'This isn't real…can't be real…'

Warren's mind numbed as shock deepened. He looked at the Emperor's aide with a surreal detachment.

"Archangel," the aide said almost gently, "we are going to your private chambers now. Ztar's personal attendant is there to help you sort this out." He would all too happily turn the human over to Sukja to manage.

With guards in a semi-circle around them, the aide led the group out of the throne room. Warren followed. Everything was dreamlike and disconnected – as if he was watching someone else walking down the hall. Disassociation had replaced emotion.

###

Sukja opened the chamber door as the group was arriving. A guard had commed ahead that they were approaching. Sukja took charge immediately, beckoning Archangel inside and dismissing everyone else. One of the guards gave Sukja a look that asked, 'Are you sure you know what you're doing with this one?'

Sukja replied with a quick affirmative nod. After all, Sukja had been done this many times for the Emperor. Emotionally, he doubted this human would be much different than any of the other unwilling consorts he had prepared for their new role. Shock is a wonderful thing – it can make the victim much more malleable.

Sukja hadn't yet been privy to seeing this Archangel. Ztar described him, but Sukja hadn't seen any images. Looking at the human, he instantly saw why the Emperor was so determined to possess him.

Part of Sukja's job as attendant was to understand and anticipate every imperial desire of a personal nature. Sukja was very good at his job. He was thoroughly versed in Ztar's likes, dislikes, desires, and needs. This human fit nicely into his Emperor's tastes.

The Emperor's description had not been overstated. Archangel was stunning. In spite of what must have been a horrifying experience over the past couple hours, he was still magnificently beautiful. True to Ztar's description, the human did immediately conjure up images of Turzent mythical creatures called the Esserru – winged beings of great compassion, incredible beauty, and immense power. In fact, the likeness to those beings was uncanny.

And if everything else Ztar said about this human was true, and there was no reason to believe otherwise, the Emperor's latest acquisition showed great promise as being able to finally provide Ztar what was needed in the bedchamber. Perhaps he would find some fulfillment in that arena at long last.

Sukja also realized that if this pairing failed, he would take a great deal of the blame. Much was riding on a positive outcome as so much was done, even given up, by the Emperor to obtain the human. The burden rested heavily on Sukja, but he was confident in his abilities to assuage fears, anger, and rebellion. He had years of experience to call upon.

As Sukja and Archangel cleared the entrance into the suite, the door slide closed. Sukja slid his hand over the control to silently lock the door, having previously set the system to respond only to his touch. Archangel could not leave the chambers.

"My name is Sukja and I am Emperor Ztar's personal attendant. These are your chambers," Sukja started.

Warren looked around. His mind focused only things that were potentially useful to his survival – the door they just past through, the control panel he doubted this Sukja knew he had sensed him activate, the two other doors at either ends of the large chamber, and objects he could use in self-defense, such as the large metal-looking art piece on the wall by the dining area – nice, sharp points.

Sukja wanted to promise Archangel some future influence over his surroundings. The ability to assert a measure of control over one's circumstance was important to all sentient beings he had encountered.

"This is your domain. Here you decide when to rise in the morning, when to eat, when to partake in pastime activities, how you spend your days. If you want to change things around to suit you better, that's your decision." Sukja detailed in a soft, almost melodic voice.

Warren walked further into the room. His head was pounding and his stomach churning, he realized. The rest of his body didn't seem to belong to him – he couldn't really feel it. Thoughts, too, were becoming hard to form. He recognized all this as the same numbness and mental shutdown from his first agonizing hours with Apocalypse. It was his brain's attempt to insulate him from what was happening.

Warren shook his head in an attempt to reattach. 'Need to think, damn it!' he chastised himself.

Sukja had been kept apprised of events concerning Archangel as they had unfolded. He knew the human had put up more resistance than is typical in these situations. But Archangel wasn't typical. This was a unique being coming from uncommon circumstances – a warrior and a person of wealth and influence on his world. Yet as exceptional as the human may be, his reaction to his new life would likely be consistent with other bedmates Sukja had transitioned into Ztar's service.

The alien was suddenly in front of Warren. "You are in shock. Perhaps a sedative and some rest…?"

That made Warren's heart jump. "No sedatives!" he said much more loudly than he had intended.

Sukja took a step backward. "If that is your wish. For now, why don't you just sit for awhile. Collect your thoughts and digest what has happened today." Sukja motioned to a comfortable looking chair at the dining table.

'That's harmless enough,' Warren told himself and walked over. The Turzent actually pulled the chair out for him.

Sukja stepped over to the kitchen facilities, filled a glass with water, and placed it in front of Archangel. "Drink – you need the fluids."

Warren hadn't realized he was thirsty, but he was intensely parched. He consumed the water quickly and Sukja got him a second glass. But Warren's stomach revolted from the hastily consumed first glass, and he let the second sit and hoped he didn't vomit in front of this alien attendant.

Warren studied this Sukja to take his mind off his stomach. He didn't resemble any other Turzents Warren had seen. Yet another different species. But thus far, everyone had referred to the aliens collectively as Turzent, no matter what they looked like. Perhaps that was a term like "American" – a reference to nationality instead of race or species. Warren concluded that had to be the case.

Sukja was about Warren's height, but much stockier. His hands had only three fingers, though, with the obligatory opposable thumb as the fourth digit. The fingers were longer than human fingers and the nails more pointed. Short hair covered his head much in the same manner as humans, but it was a red that definitely was not human, too much orange. It was in stark contrast to his skin tone. The alien's skin was a light creamy tan with just a hint of that same orange. The eyes were somewhat larger than humans, but did have the whites that the Ztar's species did not possess.

Overall, Sukja was quite humanoid. That seemed to be a running theme in the most of aliens Warren had seen during his days as an X-man. Was there some common ancestry eons ago? That question was too big to contemplate. Right now, Warren's body was crashing. A sluggish and heavy feeling started to pull at him.

Sukja recognized the outward signs of physiological changes taking place within Archangel. Fatigue was beginning to grip him. Adrenaline was clearing out of his system. So he continued talking softy, but never in a condescending or child-like manner. Nothing that would agitate or offend. Sukja wanted to lull the human toward the rest needed as his body attempted to recover from shock.

"The ship we're on is named Mi-Lartui, which roughly translates to "Emperor's sword." We carry an accompaniment of 170 personnel. There are five decks at the ship's tallest point, and two decks at its shortest. We're on deck two. Your chambers are centrally located on this deck." Sukja's voice was steady, smooth.

Warren listened to the drone of the alien's voice, but not all the words registered.

"Your chambers offer cooking facilities on this end and bath on the other end, behind that door. You have computer access from several points throughout the room. The main interface is at that desk."

The alien motioned toward the desk area, but Warren didn't follow Sukja's gesture. He didn't care about desks. "Computer" though piqued his interest. Possible hacking opportunities – he'd learned quite a bit from the X-men's resident computer expert, Beast. He filed away that idea for later. Right now he was growing tired – so tired it hurt. Another symptom he recognized as adrenaline crash mixed with shock. Warren continued to listen to the surreal soliloquy as Sukja's mesmerizing voice rambled on.

"You can order meals from the ship's main galley to be brought to you or the ingredients to cook for yourself. We carry an enormous selection of foods and fine liquors from across the Turzent Empire. All of which is at your disposal. We have an extensive library of written works, as well as audio and visual recordings, accessible through your computer terminal."

Sukja continued to speak softly about nothing of consequence, knowing the human would like remember only snatches. It wasn't the information that was important, it was lulling that was the goal.

As the minutes passed, it was increasingly evident that Archangel's body desired rest. "Archangel, you are safe in this room. I will let no one disturb you if you wish to close your eyes for awhile. You have been through much today. A short rest will help you regain your strength and mental clarity." Sukja skillfully played into exactly why Archangel would _want_ to rest under the circumstances.

"I will leave you for awhile." With that, Sukja stood up and headed for the main entrance. He turned back to Archangel. "If you need me, press this comm button – it is a direct link to my chambers down the hall." Sukja was somewhat surprised that Archangel looked over to see where the button was. A good sign. With that, he left ensuring the door was locked behind him. He would be monitoring Archangel closely from his own chambers.

Once Sukja left, Warren sucked in a deep breath. It seemed he had been taking very shallow breaths and was now somewhat lightheaded. As cloudy as his thinking was, it was clear enough to know they would be watching him. He would pretend otherwise. 'Play the dumb human and maybe I'll learn something useful.'

After all his years of battle, it took a lot to shock Warren. But this situation hit him where he was most vulnerable. It dredged up old traumas and fears that he likely had never truly resolved, especially regarding Apocalypse. In fact, he knew that was the case as much of that horrifying episode in his life he had repressed and stuff down deep inside. And so he was likely reacting differently and more intensely to what had happened today than most of his fellow X-men would. And he'd have to figure out the best way for him to deal with his current situation, not how someone else would handle it.

With the lightheadedness passing, he stood – and very nearly collapsed. Grabbing the table prevented him from ending up on the floor. 'Steady, flyboy. You're obviously more spent than you realized. And maybe in shock. Perhaps resting _is_ a good idea. Help to think more clearly.'

Warren was well versed in trauma and shock, but that knowledge doesn't lessen the impacts – only tells you how to deal with them. Training told him that since he was not in immediate danger he should give his body and mind a chance to recover. In doing so, he'd be better equipped to face whatever might come next.

Once he felt his knees where not going to fail again, he headed toward the large upholstered bench beneath the windows that ran the entire length of the chamber. Outside the window, star trails sped by telling Archangel they were traveling at faster-than-light (FTL) speed. That made his heart fall. He really was alone.

Reaching the window seat, he lied down facing the room. The seat was wide enough for two to sit side-by-side, so there was plenty of room for him and his wings. He'd take a few minutes to close his eyes and shake off the lingering dizziness.

On his viewscreen, Ztar watched his trophy fall quickly asleep. Such perfection! With sleep, the frown and worry lines from today's event dissipated from Archangel's face. What remained was flawless beauty…unsurpassed exquisiteness. His body already ached to be with this wondrous creature. However, Ztar was nothing if not methodical and disciplined. He would wait until Sukja had readied the human. And Sukja knew Ztar's patience had severe limits.

Sukja also sat watching Ztar's captive. He was relieved that Archangel slept. It would help his body cleanse itself of the many hormones and chemicals that had built up in his system from the past few hours that made him less predictable and more volatile. It would not serve well if Archangel was violent when Ztar visited.

###

Warren woke with a start and was instantly confused about his surroundings. Unfamiliar room, unfamiliar sensations. He sat upright with a jerk.

'_Where?_' his mind sought. It took at few moments, but everything came crashing back. The meeting with Charize, holding Shi'ar's neck in a lock, Xavier's abandonment, the presentation to Ztar, those words Ztar spoke before leaving the throne room…

Warren groaned and buried his face in his hands, trying to deny the memories. "_No o-o!"_ he cried out in a choked voice. Suddenly, he was freezing and shaking uncontrollably, pulling his wings tight to his body for warmth and comfort.

'This can't be real. Can't! Oh, god! What now? You're screwed, Worthington,' his heart raced. 'Ugh! Fucked over and screwed!'

His mind raced faster than his heartbeat. 'What Ztar said – no! Won't happen! Not possible. I won't let it. Sick and twisted!' Then thoughts turned to the X-men.

'The Prof wouldn't let them have me. I don't believe it! He was just leading them on. That's it! They'll come for me. Scott and the others – they won't abandon me. Just have to hang in there…' he latched onto that hope like a life preserver.

He tried to collect himself. Concentrating on his breathing, he slowed it from its frantic, shallow gulps to steady, rhythmic inhales and exhales. Gradually, with great effort, he quieted himself. The shaking ceased. His heart rate dropped. As he forced himself to calm, the disassociation from earlier reasserted itself.

The sensor chimed and Sukja turned toward his viewscreen – the human was awake. He watched in admiration as Archangel sat on the bed and quieted himself. That trait would serve Archangel well. Soon it would be time for Sukja to rejoin Archangel in his chambers, but he'd give the human a few minutes to himself first.

Warren felt strong enough to leave the window seat. The first business at hand was a visit to the bathroom. It was roomy with a large, glass-enclosed shower on one side, vanity in the center, and the toilet on the opposite side. Having relieved himself and splashed cold water on this face, he felt steadier.

He ventured around the room and spied the computer portal Sukja referred to earlier. It was one of the few things he remembered from the alien's ramblings. Although he recalled the man had spoke for a while, Warren couldn't really remember much else of what he'd said. 'Shock at work,' he told himself.

The chambers were rectangular. Its decor was the picture of understated elegance. 'What did they do, hire a human interior decorator?' he thought sarcastically. It felt much like a showroom display, complete with elegant upholstery and other lush fabrics, fine furniture, artwork, and accessories. But everything had a distinct otherworldly look about it.

The open area in the center of the suite apparently served as bedroom, dining room, and sitting area. The bed sat adjacent to the bathroom and beneath a wall of the windows that ran nearly the entire length of the room. Across from the foot of the bed was the window seat. Opposite the bed and window wall were the sitting and dining areas with the main entrance to the chambers located in-between.

Just for the heck of it, Warren had to try the main entrance door. Just as he knew, it did not respond.

On the opposite end of the room from the bath were the kitchen facilities with another door. To where? He tried to activate it without response. He assumed he'd find out sooner or later where it led.

He walked over to the dining table and drank the second glass of water Sukja had gotten him earlier but he had not drunk. Even now, the water made him queasy. Just then a tone sounded from the main entrance and the door slid open to reveal Sukja. Warren stiffened.

"Greetings, Archangel," Sukja said warmly as he entered. Then quickly, "I promise you, Archangel, there will come a time when I will not simply enter without your permission and this door will not be locked. We will know when that time comes."

Warren simply eyed the alien without comment. For now, he'd take in as much information as he could and reveal little himself. He'd do what was necessary to survive until the X-man came for him. Warren allowed himself to believe they would, he had to.

Sukja carried clothes in his arms. "These have been tailored specifically for you. There are enough here to start. More clothes will be sent up later."

'What the hell?' Warren shook his head. Custom-tailored clothes? This was too much to accept. He could only be dreaming. Or had gone insane.

Sukja walked toward the wardrobe closet that shared a wall with the bathroom, opened the door, and began putting the clothes in cubicle slots.

"A _closet organizer_! This _is_ a bad dream!" The sound of his own voice startled Warren – he hadn't intended to say anything out loud.

Sukja finished before turning and speaking. "Archangel, I assure you this is no dream. This is serious business. You have an important role to play in safeguarding your planet as outlined in the Turzent-Earth Accord."

Warren's anger flared. "This is _bullshit_! I can't do what you want to me do. I _won't_! I don't give shit about your Accord. Let me go now or I start ripping off heads – yours first!" He took a couple threatening steps toward the alien. No way in hell was he going to cooperate with these Turzent assholes. Just wait until the X-men came for him – then they'd find out just how misguided their fucking Accord was.

'Need to squelch this now,' Sukja told himself, not allowing Archangel's move intimidate him. He'd been down this path several times with other bedmates.

"It's not what I want that should matter to you. It's what Ztar wants. Your fate has been decided, there is no choice in this matter. You will do as Ztar wants. That is your new reality no matter how much you wish otherwise or try to deny."

"Like hell it is! I don't give a damn what your emperor wants. This is insane!"

"Do not test our Emperor. He will do as he has promised if you defy him. Your world will be crushed like dozens of others that resisted his rule. Earth will be brought into the Turzent Empire as a labor planet. The lowest of the low." Sukja paused for effect. He wanted there to be no doubt in the human's mind about the price of non-compliance. "Is that what you want? Will you accept that as the price of rebellion? For in the end, Ztar would still have you and the Earth enslaved."

The alien stood his ground with an air of cool confidence. The response was firm and unyielding, and every word cut through Warren like a blade of ice. All Warren wanted to do was start bashing heads, but the words of the Accord ran through his mind. What if he fought back and the aliens followed through on their threat? What if he got people killed?

'Shit! If this is real – if it's all true… God, I'm so screwed.' Everyone was giving him the same story – the Shi'ar, Xavier, the Turzents. Earth's future was on the line. What he'd read in the Accord made it clear – submit or Earth was lost. It did not look good for Warren.

Archangel was visibly shaken by the blunt summary of his situation. Sukja watched closely as the human sat down on the window seat, clearly dispirited.

"In my world, we believe there are always options," Warren grasped at straws. There were always options; Xavier had taught him that from the very beginning. Sometimes those options are hard to see at first. Sometimes you have to create your own. And sometimes, the choices may not be very desirable. But no what, there are always options.

"This is not Earth. This is your world now – the Turzent Empire and Ztar. Here you have only those options granted by the Emperor. Ztar has granted you two: you submit to him or the Earth will submit to him. Your choice, Archangel."

Warren did not speak for a long time. He focused again on breathing with desperate effort. His choices were decidedly leaning toward the undesirable.

'Fuck this alien! Fuck Ztar,' Warren's stomach flopped at his own words. 'God, if I've got this right, that's exactly what's going to happen. Going to be sick!' He sucked in air to suppress the nausea. 'Don't think about. Just handle things as they come. Stay in control!' he drew in another deep breath. 'Focus, X-man. Not a lot of options right now, but that could change. Don't do anything stupid that might put Earth at risk!' he warned himself. 'Can't let Earth fall to these savages…couldn't live with that.'

Warren focused on steadying his breathing and maintaining control of his runaway thoughts and emotions.

'Perhaps when there's no way out, you head directly into the fire. _God, help me!_'

Then he braced himself for what he didn't want to ask, but had to. "What happens next?"

"I think a shower is in order."

Warren had to admit he probably didn't smell the best right now.

###


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Submission**

Ztar viewed the scene between Sukja and Archangel with admiration for both men. Sukja's skill was unmatched in these matters. He was handling Archangel brilliantly. And Archangel's ability to quickly accept to his situation with dignity was exceeding any other reluctant companion that Ztar had taken. It reaffirmed his decision to negotiate away control of the far-flung planet Earth for this single human. Tonight, Ztar would have what he had been anticipating the past three days.

Once his responsibilities were finished for the day, the Emperor commanded Sukja to his private chamber.

"You summoned me?"

"I gather Archangel is settled in?" Ztar inquired using the euphemism they had shared for many years.

"Yes, Emperor. I believe everything is in place for this evening."

"Good!" Ztar said with enthusiasm that Sukja hadn't heard in a long time.

"I will take my leave then, Emperor, unless you need anything further." Sukja said with a small bow and turned to exit his ruler's chambers.

"Wait." Ztar commanded. Sukja turned back. "I will not go easy on Archangel this night, Sukja."

Sukja felt a stab of sympathy for the human. "I will attend to him after," he assured the Emperor.

###

Warren had showered and put on the clothes Sukja provided. His X-man uniform would be cleaned and returned, Ztar's attendant promised.

The clothes he now wore fit perfectly – snug, but not tight. To Warren, the outfit resembled sophisticated loungewear, with one modification. To allow for his wings, the top had a generous opening in the back. The fabric behind the neck and below the wings met at a seam in the center that fastened closed without any visible method. 'Alien Velcro?' Warren wondered. There was no front opening. Both the top and slacks were incredibly soft and smooth, in a deep crystal blue.

The routine of showering and dressing had made him feel stronger by focusing on something else, even if for a short while. But as soon as that was over, his thoughts raced. Over and over he reminded himself what was at stake. 'Don't do anything stupid! Just hold on for rescue. That's all you have to do!'

Warren did not know how things would play out. Sukja simply stated Ztar would visit him later and offered no other details. Warren was to simply hang out, so to speak.

The unknown and waiting were excruciating. Too many scenarios played out in his mind. Warren was making himself sick. He had to find a distraction.

Spying the computer, he decided that'd be the perfect diversion. He sat at the computer terminal trying to figure out how it worked as Sukja hadn't shown him. He allowed the effort to fully occupy his mind. And when Ztar's words would echo in his head, he refocused on the computer. Each time his imagination began to create scenes of what his immediately future might hold Warren shoved them aside.

The time was punctuated with frequent visits by Sukja during what felt like late afternoon, but Warren had no idea how time passed on the ship. During one visit, the alien brought a prepared meal for Warren, but he couldn't bring himself to eat. He tried knowing his body needed the calories and energy, but it only made his stomach rebel. After what seemed like hours, Warren noticed that the lights in his chambers had gradually dimmed. Evening?

In his chambers, Ztar readied himself. Over the past two days he planned what he wanted from this first encounter. There would be nothing sensual about tonight – long pent up desires needed to be sated. Knowing he was two to three times stronger than the human, even accounting for what he'd learned telepathically of the mutant's strength, handling Archangel would not be that difficult. But because Archangel was an experienced warrior, Ztar would use minimal telepathic influence, applying only enough surreptitious control to ensure Archangel could not injure him. Although as toughly built as Ztar was, it would be difficult for the human to do any real damage.

When Ztar silently entered Archangel's suite through the door joining their chambers, the human was seated at the desk at the opposite end of the room.

Warren immediately sensed a presence and turned to see Ztar at the mystery door. Warren's heart jumped and began to pound. Now he knew where that door led. He didn't quite know what to do, so he stayed seated.

Ztar was no longer in his Emperor's clothes. In fact, he was dressed similarly to Warren. The man stood even taller than Warren remembered. Muscular, toned, and solid, Ztar was an imposing figure as he stood with the confidence of a dictator who ruled his empire with an iron fist.

Sukja's blunt words rang in his head, "You will do as Ztar wants. That is your new reality… He will do as he has promised if you defy him. Your world will be crushed like dozens of others…" And then the words he'd been fighting down all day rolled like a shockwave through him, "What I _demand_ from you, Archangel, is your body…in my bed."

As Ztar stepped closer, Warren suppressed his panic response as best he could. There was no fight, no flight – he was trapped. 'Dear God, _please_ let me be wrong about what's going to happen.' An errant shiver ran through his body.

Ztar's keen sight saw the quiver – mostly the wings gave it away. Even that small physical reaction heightened Ztar's desire.

'You are mine at last,' Ztar thought to himself and closed the remaining distance between them. By the time he reached Archangel, the human had gotten to his feet and was backing away. In a lightening quick move, he grabbed Archangel by an arm and dragged him close, simultaneously wrapping his other arm around the small of the back, pining one arm to Archangel's side. He saw panic in Archangel's eyes and it aroused him further.

"Let me _go_!" Warren demanded into Ztar's face. 'God, he's strong! Shit shit shit!'

The remembered words of warning lost meaning as fear escalated. Instincts took over and Warren fought against the alien's grasp. The Turzent was incredibly strong, but he managed to break one arm free. Or did Ztar allow it? Looking for a vulnerable point, Warren brought his fist up toward Ztar's face hoping to break his nose. Then in mid motion, Warren couldn't think what he had wanted to do and he missed the target as alien dodged his head. '_Huh?!_'

Ztar took advantage of the confusion he had induced in Archangel and lifted him up by the waist and hauled him in a few long strides to the bed. In one smooth motion, Archangel was prone on the bed and pinned beneath the Emperor. Ztar brought his mouth swiftly down on Archangel's.

"_No_!" Warren snarled, managing to escape Ztar's mouth. 'God, please, not _this_!' he implored the heavens. He pushed against the alien's shoulders, but couldn't budge the man.

'Get off me, bastard!' Warren's mind screamed as Ztar's kissed him again savagely, the Emperor's mouth crushing his lips. Try as he might, Warren couldn't focus his thoughts to form any defensive moves. What in God's name was going on?! Why wasn't his brain working? Then an arm shoved its way beneath Warren's back and wing. A hand grabbed a wing edge and squeezed hard. Warren gasped, giving Ztar an opening and his tongue forced its way into Warren's mouth.

'Mother fucking son of bitch!' Warren gagged and his reflex action landed a fisted blow to the side of Ztar's head. As Ztar rose up in surprise, Warren was going to follow through with a palm punch to the chin, but again his thoughts were disrupted.

'What the hell?!' Warren's stomach was about to lose it contents.

Ztar grabbed Archangel's wrists and pinned them down on either side of his head atop the wings. Despite the surprise to the side of his head, Ztar was enjoying the struggle. He smiled down at Archangel. But perhaps a _little_ more mental control was in order.

Warren felt an odd sensation in his head similar to a mental touch by Xavier. For a brief instant he thought the Professor trying to contact him. But the next instant brought recognition that this was a different mind. 'Shit!! Ztar's a _telepath_!' The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Good, Archangel. Your mind is quick," Ztar said down to his captive and descended upon Archangel again, but with a firmer mental control this time.

Warren's mind became mushy and dazed; cohesive thought was difficult. He recognized the signs – mind control. Then things started happening to him that he couldn't prevent. Powerful hands tore away clothing, ran down and over his body. Wings spread wide and painfully explored by the alien's hands. Ztar's mouth on his, tongue probing deep. Tracings of pain followed the roving fingers.

Warren tried desperately to form some sort of defense, but his thoughts were half-formed and sluggish. He tried to knock the hands away without success. He tried to avoid the alien's mouth, but could not. He tried to pull his wings in tight, but was not allowed. Kicking and punching thoughts never translated to action. His body and brain refused to coordinate on any level.

"Get _off_ me! Don't _do_ this!" he managed to yell between the crushing kisses, but Ztar didn't even bother with a response.

'Oh god, oh god. Not happening. God…no!'

Ztar was in bliss! Archangel's body was beyond anything he had imagined. Everything about the human's body was designed for sexual bliss. Smooth, firm, flawless…ethereally beautiful and sensual. Silken feathers that hinted of wild animal. The very scent of this creature was erotic! It drove Ztar want more and more. To merge with the incredible being. To experience him fully, completely. Ztar went nearly into erotic overload with intensity of the sensations.

'By the gods! Give me more!' Ztar's mind and body demanded of Archangel.

Ztar's hands and mouth assailed the human. He was rough, savage. Ztar did not check his strength, did not hold back. Ztar's mental probes had told him Archangel's amazing healing capacity made him nearly indestructible. Ztar could enjoy himself without fear of permanent or fatal injury. To know that Archangel would mend so quickly, so effectively, was incredibly freeing!

'Never…anything like this! Give to me, Archangel!' the Emperor demanded, pressing command into the human's mind as he nuzzled and bit Archangel's neck.

"No, p-please. Anything else…please!" Warren stammered, vocalizing nearly impossible as Ztar's control over him tightened. "You d-don't…have to…do this!"

He allowed Archangel to struggle only enough to make things interesting. When Ztar demanded a kiss, he used his mental control to open Archangel's mouth. When he desired to sink his fingers beneath and through the feathers, he forced Archangel to spread the wings wide.

Ztar large hands slid over his wings and fingers slip between the feathers. "Don't! No!" He tried folding them in once again, but Ztar prevented it. He disliked anyone touching the sensitive appendages and rarely permitted more than a brush across them. Just two people in his life had he allowed more than that and even then only occasionally. Now this alien dug his fingertips deeply between feathers and combed through to their tips. It sent shivers and tremors through his wings and body.

Ztar continued to explore the wings of his exquisite captive. The shivers only served to heighten his delight. Ztar loved the wings and he would enjoy them as much as he pleased. Telepathy told him how much Archangel disliked the stroking and caressing, and that reaction added fueled to his desire. Like a trembling, wild creature, Archangel's helplessness beneath him excited Ztar. He would take this creature completely, without restraint.

Warren tried every maneuver Xavier had taught him to break free from Ztar's mental hold to no avail. Failing that, he tried to shut out what was happening to him, but that escape was also blocked. Warren hands clenched the bedding against the pain and horror, the only place Ztar would allow him to grab hold. His world shrank to only the sensations pummeling his body, and every sensation was raw.

'Raping me! Can't be!' Warren cried out in his mind with mounting terror and pain. 'Hurts – so much – God, please…'

Ztar did not relent when Archangel cried out in pain nor did he restrain himself. For far too long, Ztar had been forced to hold back for fear of substantial injury or even death of a bedmate. No longer. He could take what he so desperately wanted. Ztar shuddered from the fulfillment of needs long denied. The hungry beast within him was finally felt satiety.

'Waited so long for this!' Ztar couldn't get enough fast enough. This Archangel was so magnificent. All he wanted was more and still more. Ztar thought he might burst into flames with a desire that exceeded any he had ever known.

Ztar explored every inch of Warren. The Turzent ruler's unchecked strength left bruising and pain wherever his hands roamed, and they roamed everywhere. His highly sensitive wings screamed under Ztar's powerful onslaught. His entire body throbbed and pain stabbed to the bone wherever Ztar's hands moved. Warren's body writhed under the intensity of the assault. The attack seemed without end. There was only physical and mental anguish and Ztar.

'Don't let this be real!' Pain, terror, and shame engulfed Warren as the assault continued.

Ztar wasn't sure how long he devoured the amazing creature – an hour, two hours, longer? He didn't care. All he knew was _this_ is what he had always longed for, and now it was his. His and his alone! Ztar's was nearing climax and he readied his bedmate.

'I will have you!' Ztar declared in his lust-filled fever.

Warren knew what was coming next as Ztar positioned his body. Panic seized him, but he couldn't resist. He was powerless as Ztar's mental restraints held him down.

'Don't – please, _no_!' he begged in his mind to the alien telepath. 'No-no-don't-no!'

Ztar's natural lubrication meant there was no need for anything artificial – one of nature's adaptations of Turzent physiology that allowed for easy same-sex partnerships. But Archangel's anatomy required gradual penetration to accept the Emperor. Ztar wasn't that patient – Archangel would heal.

'No no no no-o-o! Not this. Oh god!'

Then Ztar could wait no longer, he took Archangel hard and deep, driving his large presence into his captive with force.

"_No-o-o-o!_" Warren's cry echoed through the chambers. Pain radiated through Warren as the alien forced himself inside. Ztar had penetrated him where no one had before and it felt as if he was being split apart.

Warren could not prevent his cries of pain with each thrust and retraction – they were stakes repeatedly driven into him. It was an eternity to Warren – tearing, searing pain; the feel of a man deep inside. He was powerless to prevent it! Too much pain, too much horror – his mind began to pull into itself.

'_Please!_' Warren's soul shrieked in despair. 'S-stop!'

Again and again Ztar thrust into his bedmate, oblivious to everything but the overwhelming sensations of building to climax. Hard and deep, over and over, he pounded into Archangel, making up for all his disappointment from an endless line of bedmates that could not satisfy him. All the long years he had to hold back. The countless nights of frustration when sexual need went unmet. Finally, he could throw restraint to the wind and at long last be fulfilled. Ztar did not stop until he had cum and was utterly spent.

When Ztar's desire was replete, he lied atop his conquest, both covered with sweat and breathing coming in gasps. Archangel trembled violently under the Emperor's body, his eyes were squeezed shut. As Ztar slowly recovered, he gently stroked a wing with one hand and gazed into Archangel's flawless face now contorted with pain.

Warren kept his eyes closed tight against the throbbing pain that permeated his body and the man who had caused it. Warren was aware the rape had stopped, but not much else, his brain numb in self-preservation. Consciousness had nearly left him from the agony that swallowed his body and spirit.

Ztar looked at his conquest. 'Never in my fantasies could I have imagined anything more wondrous!' He ran his fingers through the damp, golden hair. Telepathy showed the human floated between consciousness and unconsciousness as its body recovered.

"This was worth all the years of frustration; all the years of waiting. You're mine now, Archangel," he whispered, although he doubted the human heard.

Archangel. _His_ Archangel. Ztar liked the name. Before leaving the Earth system, he ordered the intelligence gathering arm of his military to begin mining Earth's computer data. In a specific request, he asked for the definition of the mutant's moniker. Ztar learned that many of planet's religions believed angels, the Earth equivalent of the Turzent's legendary Esserru. Ztar liked everything the name Archangel connoted. Naturally, the Emperor found Archangel's given name in his mind, but Ztar didn't care for it. Archangel fit his captive beautifully – he would keep it.

Still breathless, he whispered, "You did well, Archangel."

Warren's mind was too numb to form a response; his body too exhausted and painful to move. All he wanted was to be unconscious and oblivious. 'Please let it be over,' was the only thought he could muster.

Ztar heard the thought and replied. "We're done. You can rest now." With that, Ztar left the bed, strode nude across the chambers and exited, but not before telepathically summoning Sukja to Archangel's chamber.

###

Sukja was in Archangel's room within moments. He said not a word, but went directly into the bathroom and turned on the shower and dialed up the heat in that room. Archangel would be in shock. If Sukja's experience was an indication of what to expect, Archangel would want to wash away all scent and remnants of the event. The shower would be ready when the human was ready.

Silently, he approached the bed where Archangel had curled into a fetal position, wings held tightly against him. He was visibly trembling. Bruises marred the beautiful body. There was blood on the bedding.

Sukja knew about Archangel's healing ability from Ztar and that it should be in full effect. What he didn't know was how long to leave Archangel lie healing on the bed. Too bad he hadn't thought to bring a medical scanner. He could retrieve one or have one delivered, but he didn't want to leave the human's side even for a moment. He'd just have to judge progress as the best he could.

Gently, he sat down on the edge of the bed. Sukja said nothing. He didn't touch Archangel. He would just be there, a silent presence so the human would not be alone.

Warren's mind had pretty much shut down. Only pain registered. It engulfed him. He let it. While he drifted in and out of consciousness and awareness as his body repaired itself. Injuries from Ztar's savage penetrations were top priority followed by the more superficial wounds. Injuries of the mind, however, were beyond his healing abilities.

Sukja's watched with awe as scratches and bruises disappeared from Archangel's body. 'Amazing,' he thought. Sukja waited patiently as Archangel mended. When he felt enough time as passed, he would work to bring the human back to full consciousness.

Sukja didn't know if the worst of the injuries healed first or last, but he assumed the former. All outward signs of trauma had disappeared. Mental trauma also needed to be addressed quickly, less Archangel's mind turn inward permanently. Sukja felt the time was right to stir the human.

"Archangel," he whispered. "It's Sukja. I'm here."

No response.

"Archangel, I need you to get up."

Warren heard a distant voice but couldn't really understand the words. He wasn't sure he cared enough to try. All he wanted was to drift away.

'Healed,' an internal voice informed him.

"Archangel, you need to move." The human was still in the tightly curled position. Sukja decided to risk a gentle shake to nudge the human to full consciousness. That was a mistake.

Warren's body registered the touch. His mind leapt to another time when he had endured a brutal physical and mental attack. He was suddenly in Apocalypse's lair. During that particular memory, Apocalypse touched him and Archangel had lashed out at the source, leaping at the throat of his tormentor with murderous intent. That time, his action resulted in nothing more than being batted aside like an insect. Not so this time.

'Kill!'

The reaction to Sukja's touch happened with inhuman speed as he and Archangel went flying across the room, careening into the sitting area with furniture and accessories scattering in all directions. They hit the floor hard and the air shot from Sukja's lungs. Archangel landed astride Sukja with the Turzent's neck in a stranglehold.

It appeared to Sukja that Archangel was only semi conscious, and the reaction a reflex. As Sukja struggled to pull Archangel's hands from his throat, Archangel kept his death grip. But Sukja was no weakling himself and he tried another defense tactic. A hard knee thrust against the human's back, and Archangel was momentarily stunned. That moment was all Sukja needed to free his throat and throw Archangel off his body. The naked human hit the floor to Sukja's side.

Everything went still. Sukja didn't move. Archangel simply lay where he had been tossed for many seconds. Then ever so slowly, the human sat upright, the trance-like state apparently broken, at least for the most part.

"You move with remarkable speed," Sukja said, massaging his neck, still sitting on the floor himself. Archangel looked at him with dull eyes, but did not reply.

Sukja stood up. The human remained on the floor, but watched Sukja's movements.

Warren's mind was a jumbled mess with memories of Apocalypse intruding on present horrors. Old and new emotions of shame and self-loathing entwined. As recollections of the rape tried to form, he instinctively blocked them. His mind preferred to remain numb in self-preservation, causing everything to be hazy and unreal.

"You probably want to bathe – the shower is running. It will do you good," the Turzent advised. He wondered whether or not to hold out a hand to help the human to his feet. Sukja decided against it.

With no thoughts of his own to tell him what to do, he let the Turzent guide him. In a dreamlike state, Warren followed the promptings of the alien – a shower, toweling down, fresh clothes. Then he lied down on the window seat and fell instantly to sleep.

###

Warren's body and mind had fallen into almost a coma-like sleep after his shower late the night before. It was many hours before he emerged from that state. Rather than being confused about his surroundings like last time, he woke knowing where he was – his chambers on the Imperial cruiser. That knowledge was no comfort.

His mind was again clear, but that had its drawbacks. Thoughts were quick to return to the events of the previous night. His stomach revolted and he made a dash to the bathroom to vomit. The physical response to his revulsion actually seemed to help.

Shaky, he sat on the floor for a few minutes. God, he felt dirty! He needed to shower again – vigorously. He rose, stripped, and turned on the shower full blast. It felt good to let the cleansing water flow over him. Wash away remaining scent of Ztar and the feelings of shame that were all too familiar.

'Drown them," his mind said.

Memories of the rape kept taunting and threatening him. But just as quickly as they surfaced, Warren would switch to other concerns. Avoidance is a good survival technique.

'Let's at least keep our sanity or some semblance thereof,' he told himself.

Warren didn't bother to beat much of the water from his wings. They were soaked and he let the water drip where it may. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he exited the bathroom. Upon leaving the bathroom, Warren noted he was a little shaky and queasy.

A glance out at the windows told him they were still moving in FTL mode. Then it hit him – were they headed for Ztar's planet, or did Ztar live permanently in space?

'Can't live in a _tin can!!!_' his mind and soul shrieked. 'If there's a God, please let _that_ not be the answer!'

The physical reaction to his distress was a sudden drop in blood pressure with the accompanying faintness. Warren bent over at the waist.

'Get a grip, War! Ask before going off the deep end. Right now, think about something…anything...else. Just hang on 'til the X-men you.' The faintness eased and he slowly stood upright again.

'Food! That's good. Haven't had any in quite some time, I believe,' Warren redirected his mind. Warren's high-speed metabolism required caloric intake on a regular basis and some of the dizziness was likely due to a lack thereof.

A shiver ran through him – the wet feathers had caused him to chill down. He gave his wings several swift beats to shed as much water as possible. It flew everywhere and he didn't care. The resulting air currents knocked several items from their perches. Again, he didn't care.

At the wardrobe, he pulled out clothes at random and got dressed. He did notice that his X-man uniform was back, neatly folded in one of the closet cubicles. Then he noticed that the bed was also made and the mess from his vaguely recalled attack of Sukja was no more. It distressed him that someone – Sukja? – had been in his room while he slept and he hadn't wakened.

Rummaging through the kitchen, he found it was stocked. Some things were obvious as to their identification; other items would need an explanation. Warren did find a box of cracker-like wafers that proved bland enough for his stomach to tolerate. _Coffee_, how wonderful that would taste right now! But nothing in the kitchen resembled the 'elixir of life,' as he and Beast liked to refer to it. That would need to be rectified.

'Don't do that!' he chastised himself after realizing what he had thought. 'This isn't permanent! The Prof will find a way!' Warren tried to convince himself that would be the case.

He glanced at what likely was a clock on one of the control panels, but being as yet unfamiliar how the Turzents measured time, he couldn't say if it was morning or afternoon. 'So much to learn,' he reflected, while munching on the crackers at the dining table, his mind starting to drift. The moment he lost focus, flashes of the previous night sprang up the fill the void. He pushed the memories aside harshly once again. God, how would he survive this?

Warren knew he needed something, anything to distract his mind. Then inspiration came. He could learn the language. That was something concrete to occupy his mind and blot out unwelcome thoughts, like last night's memories – too painful to relive even once. The endeavor would be helpful in multiple ways. Yes, he'd concentrate on learning Ztar's language until the X-men came for him. He'd ask the alien about it.

Warren pulled himself up short. Sukja was of concern. He knew the alien was manipulating him. After all, he was Ztar's personal attendant. 'Oh, he _is_ good,' Warren gave him. Sukja had maneuvered Warren to exactly the place Ztar wanted him those first hours. About that, Warren had no doubt.

But perhaps he, too, could use Sukja to his advantage. A personal attendant must be privy to many of Ztar's secrets, and perhaps his weaknesses. That, too, would be a worthwhile endeavor to occupy him.

"Good progress," Warren said aloud to himself, pleased with his plans thus far.

###

Carefully watching Archangel's every move was Sukja from the viewscreen in his chambers. 'So far, so good,' he thought. He gathered up a few things for Archangel and headed down to the human's chambers for a personal visit.

###

Archangel wasn't the only one making plans. During those off moments when Ztar wasn't involved in imperial matters, his mind was pulled back to the human. His body ached for the next interlude. The intensity of that longing gave Ztar pause. One exposure to this human and already he feared uncontrolled obsession. That was something Ztar could not afford. 'Keep it in check!' he commanded himself. 'The anticipating – the waiting – can make it even sweeter,' he offered himself in exchanged.

The day seemed endlessly. His long wait for sexual fulfillment was over. All Ztar wanted was to be with Archangel. For this day, Ztar allowed himself those desires. But, he told himself, only for a short while would he give himself over to these feelings. Then it must come to an end. Reason once again would need to rule. That is how he clawed his way to the position of ruler over a far-flung empire. Not by succumbing to desires, but by strength, cunning, and intellect free of uncontrolled emotions.

But this second night with his Archangel, he would employ one of his favorite techniques. Developed with previous bedmates, this telepathic technique forced his bedmate to mentally experience the pleasure Ztar himself was enjoying while his victim endured the experience from their own perspective. It was always best used very early on, when his partner was still struggling with their new role. Deliciously voyeuristic and always physically and mentally rewarding for Ztar as he reveled in the contrasting emotions.

But, Ztar admitted, the technique did not come without risks, as his attendant had cautioned earlier that day. Yet he knew Archangel's mind was very strong from his telepathic probing and he believed the risk was nominal.

It was with much anticipation that Ztar wrapped up the day's responsibilities and proceeded to his chambers for the night.

###

Sukja spent most of the day in and out of Archangel's chambers, never wanting to leave the human alone very long. He made excuses for the visits, bringing food, clothes, toiletries, whatever came to mind. It was likely obvious to Archangel what Sukja was doing, but that was fine. Each new item gave him a chance, however brief, to engage the Emperor's newest companion in conversation.

Sukja was encouraged by what he observed. Actually, Sukja was amazed at how well the human was holding up. Archangel seemed quite adept at distracting himself, a good coping technique. He spent quite a bit of time absorbed in the computer. It had proved to be a good distraction tool for bedmates in the past, too. There were vast amounts of information available through the ship's databanks that could satisfy a curious mind for years.

But Sukja was worried. He had tried to dissuade Ztar from employing his duality technique so soon with the human. It was always risky. Ztar shared much with Sukja about every companion he acquired. And this morning, he freely admitted he had not held back last night. Knowing Ztar's physical strength and pent up desires, and hearing that Ztar took full advantage of the human's powerful healing abilities, meant Archangel had likely endured more last night than any other previous bedmate had and survived intact.

The human had been through a horrifying first day, ripped from everything he knew and enslaved. Archangel's first night with the Emperor would have deepened and intensified the trauma, as it would be with any unwilling bedmate. Even Ztar's willing bedmates were often traumatized by his intensity. Add to that the unbridled enthusiasm which Ztar had enjoyed his new bedmate, and Archangel was almost certainly in traumatic shock.

But despite Sukja's expressed reservations, the Emperor would not reconsider his plans for his second night with Archangel. The attendant could only hope the human's mind was as strong as Ztar believed.

###

Sukja kept coming in to check on him with lame excuses of bringing yet another "forgotten" item to his room. It was obvious they didn't trust him to be alone for more than a short time. But there was nothing Warren could do about the visits, so he just let the attendant do what he thought he needed to do. Sukja attempted to engage him in conversation whenever he appeared. Despite his plan to pump Sukja for information, he couldn't bring himself to do so as yet. Talking required more effort than he felt capable of, at least for now, and he responded to the attendant with as few words as possible, and sometimes not at all.

With few choices available to pass the time, Warren had occupied the remainder of the day with explorations of the ship's computer library. So far the distraction helped avoid thoughts about the previous night or what was likely to come. Focusing his mind prevented the painful memories and feelings from surfacing. Warren was no stranger to the affects of shock and trauma – the loss of his original wings and Apocalypse were just two examples. He recognized many of the symptoms now.

Having been there before was helping him now. He knew focusing on something else, such as learning more about the Empire and making plans to regain some sense of control, like learning the Turzent language, were good coping techniques.

The computer interface seemed to want to please him – to provide what it could within Warren's security clearance to help him become familiar with his new world. Had it been programmed to be specifically helpful to him? Sukja or someone had obviously programmed the interface to display/understand English. As he became more adept at navigating the computer, he learned that tutorials for the Turzent Empire's official language were indeed available. He continued to explore the Turzent world through that portal. The distraction was just what he needed.

It was late in the day and Warren was so absorbed in the computer, he didn't notice Ztar's silent entrance.

"Your Emperor has entered the room," Ztar said flatly, startling Warren.

Warren jumped at the voice. Immediately he wanted to run – he knew what was coming. 'Too much – not ready,' his mind protested. But there was no where to run. His heart rate skyrocketed in the space of a beat, causing momentary dizziness. Warren gripped the edge of the desk. Could he handle another night with Ztar and stay sane? He wasn't sure.

"Rise, Archangel, in the presence of your Emperor!" Ztar commanded, but Warren hesitated.

'Can't do this! Can't! Dear God, not again…'

"Now," Ztar demanded sternly.

Reminding himself of the treaty requirements, Warren obeyed. His knees though nearly gave out and he was forced to keep one hand on the desk for support.

"Face me," was the second command. Harder, but Warren did as commanded, looking slightly down. He couldn't bring himself to look at the face of the man who would do things to him that he had no control over. He wasn't yet strong enough. 'I will look you in the eye soon, Ztar,' Warren vowed to himself.

Ztar closed the distance between them quickly with his long strides. Warren remained still. As Ztar stopped close to Warren and his nostrils actually flared – not a good sign, Warren noticed with trepidation.

Ztar's left hand came up and Warren winced before Ztar had even touched him. Ztar stopped his hand in mid motion at that, waited for a second, then finished his reach to the side of Warren's face. His hand cupped Warren's head briefly, then slowly he slid his hand down Warren's neck, shoulder, back to where his wing and shoulder blade met. Warren shuddered. The Emperor's breath washed over him.

Ztar liked the shudders Archangel was obviously trying to suppress as he moved his hand across the leading edge of the upper wing, from shoulder blade up to the peak, where he applied steady downward pressure on the wing arch.

Warren resisted the wing extension Ztar obviously desired. He wanted so much to punch out the alien. To smash his face into the floor of his Imperial cruiser and beat the shit out of him. It was a physical effort to not take a swing at Ztar, but the threat to Earth loomed like an ax over his head.

'Don't risk Earth…don't risk Earth,' he kept reminding himself. But he didn't want to extend the wing. He didn't want this alien rapist to touch any part of him!

Keeping his hand on the wing, Ztar grabbed and pulled Archangel's chin with his other hand and looked directly into the mutant's eyes.

"Do not defy me," Ztar said sternly and let go of Archangel's chin.

Archangel extended his wing from the pressure Ztar applied. The Emperor drew his hand down following the spread of feathers. Where the wing membrane ended, he pushed between the feathers and continued down. The feel of the feathers between his fingers was silky, yet stiff at the same time. It was sensual and exotic. Ztar's desire flared. He could not image any other being more seductive than the winged human.

Warren's best attempt to suppress the trembling failed. The wings were very sensitive to touch. It was that sensitivity that made Warren such a magnificent flier. The ability to feel subtle air currents and shifts in air flow over his wings had allowed Warren to develop incredible aerial maneuverability.

Ztar reacted to the trembling – it excited him. He drew Archangel into his arms and his lips to the human's. With one hand behind Archangel's head, Ztar kept their mouths together in spite of Archangel's reflex to pull back. He ran his tongue across Archangel's teeth as a message to open his mouth. When Archangel refused, Ztar squeezed the back of his head harder to express his displeasure.

Images of the previous night came flooding back. 'Bad dream – it's all a bad dream…'

Warren was panicking – his mind screaming to fight off the aggressor. He felt Ztar's tongue and knew what he wanted. '_No_!' Warren's whole being shouted at Ztar at pressure on the back of his skull from Ztar's hand.

'_Yes_!' Ztar mental voice commanded sharply.

'Goddamn telepathy!'

Ztar got what he wanted and his kissing was deep, probing, and long. His free hand roamed Archangel's body enjoying its lean contours through the clothing. The clothing won't last for long, Ztar told himself.

When Ztar finally pulled back to release their mouths, he still held onto Archangel's waist and head. He looked down into the crystal-blue eyes. Archangel was subtly trembling in Ztar's firm embrace, which delighted the Emperor more than he could have anticipated.

"Now we go to bed," Ztar informed his captive, and then released him. Ztar himself was now trembling with desire so intense it almost frightened him.

The words were horrifying and Warren's dread escalated. Then sudden detachment from Ztar caused him to nearly collapse. His legs shook. It hadn't registered at the time that Ztar had been holding him up. Grabbing the desk beside him halted his descent to the floor.

He would be enduring another rape and he wasn't sure he could do it. God, how had his life come this?! To save a planet, he had to allow himself to be sexually assaulted. And for how long? When would rescue come?

'No, don't even go there!' he ordered himself. 'Just get through the next couple hours. Think of nothing beyond that.'

Ztar moved over to the bed, tossed back the linens, and sat down facing Archangel. "Come," was the simple command.

Warren wasn't sure his legs would hold him up, so he hesitated, anticipating an impatient response from Ztar. But Ztar remained silent and Warren guessed why. He opened and extended his mind out toward Ztar as the Professor had taught him, 'You're reading me?' he offered the question into the mental space.

'Yes. When your legs will hold you, come to me.' Then the presence in Warren's mind left. A minute later, Warren made his way dutifully to Ztar against every instinct and nature of who he was.

The Emperor watched as Archangel collected himself, taking in every detail of the body that would soon lie beneath him. A surprisingly delicate frame for a man, but he knew it was far stronger than it appeared. Toned and muscular, but not overly so. Facial features that were definitely male, yet with an almost feminine beauty and softness to them. It was as if nature blended the best of both genders into this one individual. The previous night, Ztar explorations of the human found not a single blemish marring the body. A warrior with no battle scars. The healing ability, Ztar guessed. When Archangel finally approached, Ztar noted the natural grace with which the human moved and held his body. The human was perfection that was impossible to take your eyes off.

Ztar stood as Archangel reached him, grasped the mutant by the waist, and lifted him up. 'So light for his size,' Ztar noted to himself. He maneuvered the human over the bed and laid him down. His anticipation of what was to come nearly made his cum already.

Ztar positioned his large frame over him and tore off the Warren's top. Warren began to detach himself from what was happening. He grabbed a particularly vivid memory of flying over a mountain valley in summer near his Colorado aerie and started to focus on remembering as many details as he could – the sensations, scenery, and smells.

'A beautiful memory, but stay with me, Archangel,' the voice in his head interrupted.

'??'

'I want you here with me. I want you to experience what I experience,' Ztar's projected not only his voice, but his lust also. The combination sent yet another shudder through Archangel.

'God, what was that?!' Warren tried to turn his mind away from Ztar's projected sexual hunger, but could not.

Ztar's mouth explored Archangel's neck while one hand rubbed up and down his thigh. Archangel tried to break away from the mental hold, but Ztar easily prevented it. He continued to feed his bedmate's mind his own building desire and physical sensations. Archangel groaned in response.

'Stop it!' Warren tried to block the mental force-feeding, but the Emperor's mind was too powerful.

The Emperor moved up to nuzzle and gently bite Archangel's lips. He ran his hands over and through silky feathers, followed the wings' structural contours to the part of back where feather met skin and squeezed hard. Archangel inhaled sharply and his body rose up involuntarily and pressed firmly against Ztar's chest. Ztar's desire grew and he transferred that need to Archangel. He was rewarded with a low guttural sound from the human's throat.

'I want you – all of you! Everything!' he telepathed to the human. Ztar's desire was escalating faster than he believed was possible.

'Don't do this, Ztar!' Warren projected, but his plea went unacknowledged.

Ztar began more urgent explorations of Archangel. Pushing Archangel down into the bed, he found the perfectly formed lips and encompassed them into his mouth. When he finished a long, deep kiss, he moved up slightly and kissed the curving arch of one wing. Shivers ran through Archangel as Ztar continued kissing down the wing's leading edge. The response heightened Ztar's need even more. The feel of feather on lip was amazingly sensual. He funneled those sensations into Archangel. It wasn't long before Ztar had torn off all remaining clothing from both men.

Warren was reeling! The overlay of Ztar's sensory experience on top of the physical sensations of his own body would be overwhelming in itself. Add to that the maelstrom of his own emotional whirlwind from the rape and the intense desire and enjoyment that Ztar was driving into his mind. It was too much!

"No more…please!" Warren managed to force the words out through the chaos of emotion and sensations engulfing him from all directions.

Ztar vaguely heard the plea, but he tossed it aside. Lust and desire washed over Ztar in ever increasing intensity as he took in more of his unwilling lover. He breathed in the smell of Archangel – flesh and feather. Marveled at the smoothness of his skin, the firmness of his body, the silky sensuality of feathers beneath Ztar's probing fingers. Beauty beyond any Ztar had laid eyes on before. All these sensations he poured into Archangel's mind. Then as an experienced psychic voyeur, Ztar drank in Archangel's duality experience. The pleasure Ztar derived from Archangel's mental chaos was intoxicating. The groans and mental protests heightened Ztar's experience even more.

Warren's mind wanted to run from the bombardment – too many opposing sensations and emotions! But Ztar wouldn't allow that. Intense pleasure mixed with intense pain. Driving desire collided with horror. Overwhelming need with sheer terror. Warren thought his mind might split in two. Breaths came in gasps and gulps. He pleaded again in his mind for Ztar to stop, _begged_ him, but Ztar did not respond. Warren tried to repel and deflect the assault, anything to lessen the pain that clashed agonizingly with pleasure the Emperor was feeding Warren mentally. 'Too strong…can't stop him!' his mind informed itself in defeat.

His victim's attempt to fight only served to drive him. Ztar's desire burned white hot. Deeper, harder, longer over every millimeter of his captive's body. Ztar's physical strength translated sensual acts into excruciating pain for Archangel and he nearly convulsed beneath his tormentor. Only Archangel's fast-acting healing abilities kept him from serious injury.

Death would have been welcomed. Warren's mind was overloaded and cohesive thought now eluded him. When his brain could no longer orchestrate any defensive moves, reflex and instinct took over in an attempt to ward off the most pain-filled of Ztar's acts.

'This will not end!' Ztar gave himself permission to continue. He became only the need, the desire, the pleasure. 'Take!' he told himself.

And still it continued. Ztar ravaged Archangel's body, doing whatever he needed to bring ever increasing sexual satisfaction. By the gods, he could not get enough! In a brief moment of clarity, he allowed himself that he may be pushing Archangel beyond his ability to cope. But he wanted this to never end – so much fulfillment. Never had he experienced such intense, raw, maddening pleasure. It consumed him. None of his other bed partners would have survived to this point – too frail in body and/or mind. Ztar was out of control and he reveled in it. He felt young again. He felt animalistic! As Ztar reached peak desire, he thrust himself physically and mentally into Archangel over and over again. As he had the night before, Ztar made no effort to prepare his victim.

Warren cried out as Ztar entered and re-entered him. Pain drove his body and mind to shudder violently under the dual assault while Ztar force-fed his ecstasy into Warren's mind. He was beyond what could be endured. Survival instinct shut down thought and sensation as much as the mental control would allow.

As Ztar gradually regained control over himself, he realized with a pang he may have forced Archangel's psyche too far. He pulled slowly away mentally and physically. His own body spent, Ztar lied half atop Archangel for many minutes to recover. The human half cried, half whimpered as his body quaked in spasms under the Emperor.

When he could manage it, Ztar raised up on one elbow and looked down at Archangel's face. The eyes were squeezed shut like last time. Ztar gently stroked an outstretched wing and the contorted face, trying to soothe and quiet. Mentally, Ztar projected feelings of calm to Archangel. He would maintain an empathic connection with the human for the next many hours, too, as a precautionary measure. He would not intrude into the human's brutalized psyche, fearful of the results. A minute later, Ztar psychically induced deep, dreamless sleep in Archangel, rose from the bed, and returned to his chamber. As before, he telepathically summoned his attendant. Sukja had a lot of work ahead of him, the Emperor told himself.

###

It's always particularly bad after the Emperor employed his voyeuristic technique. Some didn't survive and fell into insanity or a catatonic state. He had implored Ztar to wait a bit with this one. Allow Archangel more time to acclimatize. Sukja saw such promise in Archangel to give Ztar satisfaction and fulfillment for the long term, he didn't want the Emperor to jeopardize it too hastily. But Ztar wouldn't hear of waiting. His needs had gone too long without release. Archangel was strong, Ztar had told Sukja. He would survive. Sukja fervently hoped his Emperor was right.

Sukja did not touch Archangel, remembering what happened last time. But he did ever so carefully put a blanket over the sheet that was already covering the human. Extra warmth to curtail the affects of shock. Sukja wasn't sure how much time had past before he was summoned, so he wasn't sure how far the healing had progressed. However, in the areas not covered by the sheet, he saw no outward signs of injury.

Sukja brewed a pot of his personal favorite, a custom-blended tanquer root tea, for the human whenever he awoke. Sukja's tea was particularly soothing. He hoped the human slept through the remainder of the night, but there was no way to predict. In the meantime, he'd enjoy rereading one of the many classic writings from his personal library. Sukja was prepared for a long night. He got comfortable in Archangel's sitting area, turned on his computer personal interface, or PI as it was referred to, and relaxed until the human woke. Then he would deal with whatever aftermath visited upon the human.

###

Ztar couldn't stop thinking of Archangel. Although completely spent and exhausted, he could not sleep. The vivid memories of the pleasures and sensations aroused him again. Then thoughts of obsession from early in the day gripped him once again. But now he wasn't so sure he cared if he fell head long into obsession or not. Just two nights with Archangel and he was ready to lose himself to this being. He pulled himself up short.

'Think, mighty Emperor!' he said harshly to himself. 'Control yourself or all could be lost.'

But the sensations and sexual fulfillment were indescribable. How could he fight something so powerful?

'With reason and discipline. Just like you always have.' he answered himself. 'Archangel may be perfection and everything you've wanted, but he is still only a bedmate. One facet of your life. Enjoy the nights; then focus on the days. Do not lose yourself to the lust. Control your emotions, Emperor!' he mentored internally.

And Ztar forced himself to think of other things until sleep finally took him.

###

Consciousness tried to force itself to the surface of Warren's mind. A pleasant scent filled his nostrils. Then a soft click was detected. A sensation of discomfort from beneath him came next, but he couldn't place it. His head throbbed. Then nothingness again.

The second attempt at consciousness met with better success. This time the discomfort emitting from his back and wings was clear, he needed to roll onto his side.

Sukja put down the interface unit when Archangel moved. It had been a few hours since he was summoned to Archangel and it was that time when night and very early morning begin to blend. He watched to see if this time the human would wake up. Perhaps a verbal nudge?

"Archangel, can you hear me?" Sukja asked from the safety of his chair.

No immediate response. Then Archangel moaned softly, slowly stretching his wings out behind him beneath the bedcovers.

Tingling and increasing discomfort spread through his wings as the circulation returned. He was not designed to lie for long periods on his back. But the pain did push him closer to awareness.

Sukja got up, poured a cup of tea, and walked it over to the bedside table.

Warren detected the soothing aroma almost immediately. Another sensation to follow to consciousness.

Sukja pulled an outfit from the wardrobe and placed it in the bathroom. He prepped the bath for the human in the same manner as before – shower running, heat turned up.

Returning to the bed area, Sukja again spoke to the human. "You need to wake up, now. Do you understand?"

It surprised the Turzent when the human nodded.

Warren had focused on the voice and the ache in his head for the last pull to wakefulness. He opened his eyes and the room gradually came in to focus. Slowly, carefully, he sat up. The tingling and pain in his wings was quickly fading, but his head was another matter. Being upright increased the pain sharply and Warren rubbed his temples.

Sukja immediately recognized the sign – an after affect of Ztar's voyeurism usually was an intense headache. But the frown on the human's face brought on by pain quickly faded.

"Does your head hurt?" Sukja inquired.

"Not anymore." The human's voice had a hollow quality about it.

With no further explanation forthcoming from Archangel, Sukja assumed that his healing factor was dealing with that last physical remnant of Ztar's attentions.

Warren felt strange – as if he wasn't real. The sensation was odd, like being outside himself. He felt no emotion. A numbness seemed to permeate to his very soul. But memories lurked around the edges in brief images that flashed by too quickly to comprehend. Something told him not to let the memories congeal.

Sukja picked up the tea and offered it to the human. "This will help – it's tea."

Warren wasn't sure about that, but he took the cup. It gave him something to concentrate on to keep the snatches of memory at bay. He focused on the hot liquid with his whole being. Its multi-layer aroma that reminded him of jasmine and – what? Ginger? Perhaps, but with a touch of pepper maybe. The Professor or Hank may have been able to better pinpoint the scents, both being tea aficionados. The thought of the his friends sent a pain through Warren's chest.

'Next thought,' he told himself. Back with the hot tea, Warren tried to determine every flavor he could detect as he sipped. Some of the same ones his nose found, but others he couldn't name.

He continued to immerse himself in the tea, it was a safe place. Best just to let the hot liquid envelop him with its warmth and soothing fragrance.

Sukja studied the human from the chair he had returned to in the sitting area. He didn't think the human knew he was there right now. It appeared that he was somewhere else. That could be good or bad – it really depended on the individual. Some abuse victims go to a safe place in their minds for a short while to leave the worst of the experience behind temporarily. Others retreated to that place permanently. It was Sukja's job to ensure that it was the former.

He would get the human up and moving as soon as possible. A shower, some food, and then he'd see better how his charge was recovering. For now, he'd let Archangel finish his tea.

###

Warren woke confused. A strong feeling of lost time greeted him. The last thing he remembered with any clarity was sipping tea while sitting in bed. But few memories filled the time between waking up to the hot tea before and waking up just now on the window seat. He felt that considerable time had passed, but how much? Was this even the same day?

The chamber lights were at their daytime intensity, so he presumed it was day on the Mi Lartui. He reached over to the lighting control above the window seat and overrode the auto-setting to dim them. Then he realized he was alone.

'Good.' He wanted to see no one right now.

He remained on the window seat for a bit longer. What had happened in between? Plus, there was an odd sensation of mental numbness – almost like his brain was on Novocain. Warren shook his head. He got up.

Pacing the length of his chamber, Warren tried to put the pieces together. Obviously, he was in nightwear. The last he remembered he was nude. It felt like he was also showered. Fed? Perhaps – he didn't feel exceptionally hungry.

Vague images and sounds swirled together, making no sense. Sukja's soothing voice, Ztar's urgent voice, hushed whispers. Hands leading him…where? Hard as Warren tried, he couldn't come up with any solid memories post-tea.

'This isn't working. Just let it go for now,' he said to himself.

He sat down defeated on the edge of an overstuffed chair in the sitting area. Perhaps he'd ask Sukja to fill in the blanks, perhaps he wouldn't. He didn't know…maybe even didn't care. Maybe memory loss was a good thing.

'Dear God, I can't deal with anything more!' He buried his head in his hands.

Then without warning, a tidal wave slammed into him. He was back in the bed, trapped beneath the alien and unable to prevent what was happening. Ztar. The mental bombardment. Ztar's unbridled lust and craving for his body filling his mind. The pain. Unwelcome hands and other body parts where he didn't want them. The taste of his horror. It all came crashing in on him. His heart raced and panic erupted.

'_No_! I don't want to remember!' he implored, squeezing his head between his hands. 'No no no no!'

But the images and feelings kept coming. He tried to stop them, push the memories down, but they overwhelmed his efforts. His chest tightened and breathing became difficult. His body quaked. How could anyone expect him to go on like this! It was all too much! Warren couldn't cope – he didn't want to cope.

'I don't have the _strength_, Professor!' he cried out in a mental projection, hoping somehow Xavier would hear his plea. 'I can't do this. Not for _Earth_…not for _anyone_!' Anguish and despair engulfed Warren and he slid to the floor on his knees. 'God, please!… _Someone!_'

The crying came violently, racking his entire body; his breathing in ragged gasps. He turned and clung to the chair like a life preserver, burying his face in its softness. Tears flowed into the fabric; the cushion absorbed his wrenching sobs. The chair bearing silent witness to his soul's agony.

Too much pain, too much shame, too much to endure. So _alone_. Trapped. Betrayed. No escape. The feelings crushed him. His mind was desperate to stop the anguish. It would be _so o o good_ to just disappear. To escape the agonizing memories. Away from the horror. To just dissolve into nothing. To be nothing…

Warren let himself slide down toward a calm emptiness that called to him…anything to escape the inescapable.

Ztar sensed something was amiss with Archangel from his location half way across the ship. He pressed his mind out to reach the human's. And then he swore out loud, startling everyone in the meeting.

"Excuse me," Ztar said simply, nearly leaping out of his chair. An Emperor need not explain his actions, even when leaving unexpectedly in the middle of a critical tactical meeting.

Outside the meeting room, Ztar reached his mind out to find Sukja's unique mental signature amongst the 170 minds on the ship. There, on Deck 4…

'Where _are_ you?!'

Ztar's mental bolt nearly caused Sukja to trip and fall. Sukja knew he was in trouble. He projected back, 'Completing errands on-'

Ztar broke in angrily. 'Go to Archangel _immediately_. You should _not_ have left him.' And then Ztar ripped his presence away harshly.

Sukja didn't know if this meant the human was trying to harm himself, was ill – it didn't matter. All the mattered was that Sukja needed to get up there as quickly as possible. He simply dropped his parcels in the corridor ran as fast as his legs would carry him to Archangel's suite. He was breathing hard and his hand shaking as he opened the door.

The human was on the floor, in a fetal position against the chair, his face buried in the cushion, convulsive shaking running through his body. _Not_ good.

There was no response from Archangel when Sukja approached or even when he risked touching him gently on the shoulder. That _really_ wasn't good. A quick visual inspection found no blood or obvious injury to the human. And Sukja knew there was nothing in the suite that Archangel could have used to poison himself. And even if he had injured himself, the human's healing abilities should deal with it. This was likely a mental break – much more difficult to treat!

Sukja had been so confident when he left Archangel sleeping that the human had successfully come through the worst of the first critical hours. Once Archangel had finished his tea, Sukja managed to get the human to shower and dress, to eat and take more fluids. Archangel had talked and walked, although in a somewhat dream-like state, but that wasn't unexpected considering what Ztar had put him through. All in all, the signs had been good.

When he had gotten Archangel to lie down once again to sleep when the need for more became obvious, Sukja had hoped Archangel would sleep long enough for him to complete his daily errands for Ztar.

Obviously, he had been wrong about Archangel's state of wellbeing. He just hoped his lapse of judgment would be forgiven by the Emperor. That forgiveness would likely hang on Archangel's restoration to wellness.

Sukja got down on his knees next to Archangel. Sukja wished _he_ was the telepath so he would know what was going on in the human's mind. Then again considering what this man had been through the last couple days, maybe he'd rather not know.

"Archangel," Sukja began. "You're not alone, I am here," he murmured in his most euphonic voice. "I know I'm a tool for the man who has hurt you, but I am not that man. We can get through this together. Please let me help you…"

Nothingness approached closer, reaching out to him. He welcomed it.

Sukja carefully crafted his words based on years of experience. "Right now I'm guessing you're trying to hide away. The pain is such agony. The memories so brutal. But these will fade. Your life will not always look so dark. But you must come back."

Sukja continued injecting strength and confidence into the words, "We can deal with the pain and the shame. It will be hard, but together we can make them less raw, less intense. I will not lie to you that we can make it go away, but we can make it tolerable. You can do this!"

He drifted toward the blackness filled with emptiness. No pain. No emotions or tortured thoughts. Just peaceful oblivion.

Sukja noted that the violent shuddering had lessened. But whether this meant Archangel was listening to him or had slipped further away he did not know.

Sukja remembered the briefing paper he'd read on Archangel's friends, the X-men, that military intelligence had prepared and Ztar had shared. The X-men were warriors on their planet. Perhaps an appeal to that side of Archangel's personality.

And the nothingness edged ever closer.

"The Emperor _is_ cruel and sadistic. This man who has hurt you should pay for his crime. This I believe. But I'm not the one to do that. It is not my right. That vengeance belongs to you – no one else." Sukja let that rest with Archangel for a bit. He just hoped the human had heard it.

Nothingness beckoned. So alluring. Silent. Empty. Deep. Just a little further and there would be no more pain…

"Archangel!" Sukja said more loudly, but without harshness. "You are a _warrior_ – a fighter. Don't let this man defeat you! Not like this. Not whimpering on the floor of his cruiser. You are _tougher_ than that. _Stronger_ than that."

From somewhere, a distant voice/sound kept intruding. A sliver of consciousness was caught up in that voice, holding him back from the embrace of nothingness. If only he could break free and sink into the blissful blackness.

Archangel's body seem to tense ever so slightly. Sukja could not determine if this was good or bad, but he pushed forward.

###

Ztar was furious with Sukja. If any permanent harm came to Archangel because Sukja had failed in his duties to be at the human's side...

But the Emperor quickly redirected to blame toward the person truly responsible for Archangel's current state – himself. What had he _done_?! At long last, he found a bedmate that could satisfy him body and mind and he may have destroyed him.

'How could you have lost control like that! _Fool_!!' he raged at himself.

When the empathic link he had initiated with the human caused him to reach out to Archangel, he had been horrified. The human's mind had slipped to that deep level where Ztar's telepathy was of no use. There are places the mind can go that were beyond his mental abilities. Ztar had experienced this with other bedmates he'd pushed too far. Minds lost to oblivion or chaos. While Ztar could feel their minds, he could do nothing to pull them back to sanity. In one case, he had thrown a mental lifeline to the other mind only to have that mind slip even further away. That bedmate never emerged from her catatonic state.

The mistakes of the past he would not repeat. Archangel's mind was on the brink – even a gentle telepathic touch could be disastrous. Ztar would not attempt to retrieve Archangel from the edge of the abyss. He would not risk pushing the human's mind deeper into itself by any form of telepathic incursion. No, he'd would put Archangel's mind in the hands of the one person he felt might have a chance at pulling the human back from the brink.

Ztar thought he'd go mad from the waiting. He knew he did not dare go near Archangel's chambers. Equally, he didn't dare interrupt Sukja's work with a telepathic inquiry. Too much was at stake. As much as it was driving him insane, Ztar would wait for Sukja to contact him. Ztar only prayed it would be with good news.

The Emperor was worthless the remainder of the day while Sukja worked to save the human's psyche. He attended no further meetings. Instead, he paced the halls of the ship, picking up on any sign of lax maintenance, sloppy work, or less than perfect housekeeping. When he found evidence, heads rolled. This was _his_ ship and they'd keep it to perfection! Ztar was on the warpath and people scattered.

###

Sukja spent the next hours on the floor with Archangel talking of warriors and victory despite overwhelming odds. He pulled from the classic writings he so loved, reciting from memory the most appropriate stories. Tales of heroes and adventurers. Of crushing defeat followed by joyous, ultimate victory.

At some point, the shaking and ragged breathing stopped, replaced by a stillness almost like death. But Archangel was alive and Sukja kept his voice going…soft, melodic, encouraging.

The voice/sound was soothing. Something about it was appealing. No meaning to the voice/sound, just ever present tones. Gentle. It called to him…reached for him.

Sukja sensed more than saw a change in Archangel. He just felt more "there." The Turzent continued his stories until he thought his voice would give out or he'd run out of things to say. But then again, if he repeated himself what did it matter? Sukja kept talking, putting as much encouragement into his voice as possible.

The voice/sound was beginning to become clearer. Meaning of the sounds was almost within grasp. Reach a little further...what was that?

The nothingness/blackness hesitated.

Then a mental door opened slowly and the blackness edged back. Soul reached out from the doorway and gently embraced mind, they merged, and grew stronger. 'We can't be touch _here._ We will not be destroyed,' it whispered with iron strength.

Soul/mind grabbed hold of the voice that was now more than sound. Words formed, had meaning. They listened for some time to the voice that soothed and encouraged. Finally, soul/mind rode the words up away from the edge of blackness, toward the source of the words. 'We _choose_ to survive! The blackness will not take us,' the inner voice announced as consciousness and awareness grew.

The nothingness that had nearly engulfed him fell away.

When Archangel took a long, shaky breath and released it, Sukja nearly cried. But it was just the start. Archangel slowly released his hands from the arms of the chair that he had had in a death grip for hours. Sukja held his breath. What version of the human would emerge from this?

Warren's muscles were incredibly stiff from holding one position so long. They barely responded to his command to move. Slowly, painfully, he let go of the chair and then eased himself around. It was a sturdy, heavy chair and held firm as he rested his back against it and stretched his sore legs out before him with great effort. Only then did he notice Sukja on the floor near him.

"Let me make you some of my tea," Sukja offered. His own muscles equally stiff, Sukja rose with difficulty. Archangel did not acknowledge, but Sukja hadn't expected him to.

Warren's eyes followed the alien as he made the tea. Anything more than that was too much effort – required too much thought. He would just watch. A feeling of indifference engulfed him at all levels.

When the tea was ready, Sukja delivered it to Archangel and rejoined him on the floor. He sat quietly, as Archangel drank slowly. The human hands trembled to the point where Sukja wasn't sure he could manage the cup.

"I'm glad you're back with me, Archangel," Sukja finally offered quietly when he felt the moment right.

"My name is Warren," the human stated without emotion.

'That's new,' Sukja thought. The intelligence report he had read only referred to the human as Archangel and Ztar never mentioned another name. Surely, Ztar knows this. Questions for another time.

They sat on the floor for a long while as Archangel sipped the tea. Slowly, the trembling ceased and the human began to look steadier.

Rising, Sukja replied. "Warren, are you well enough to get up?" He believed movement was wise.

He allowed Archangel/Warren to stand in his own time with his own strength. At this moment, the human needed to feel that strength and determination. Sukja did not offer to help him.

Warren registered that Sukja hadn't offered a hand up. Good! The last thing he wanted was to be touched – especially by the puppet of the man who very nearly drove him to insanity. He'd help himself up, thank you!

Over the next few hours, Sukja let Archangel make all the decisions. Whether or not to eat, whether or not to shower, where to sit and when, what to wear. He simply stood by, offering a suggestion here, posing an inquiry there. Unobtrusive, but always nearby.

In the end, Archangel was showered, dressed, hydrated, fed, and asleep on the window seat. It wasn't until then that Sukja breathed a tentative sigh of relief.

###

When Ztar's chamber door chimed, his heart stopped momentarily. Good news or bad?? He would not reach out to Sukja's mind and rip the news from him. He would allow Sukja to vocalize it, he thought as he opened the chamber door to his attendant. But one look at the man's face said everything Ztar needed to know. His Archangel had survived!

Ztar listened carefully to Sukja's retelling of events and to his suggestions on how to handle the next few days as the human continued his path back from the brink. After hearing how close he may have come to losing Archangel to insanity, the more he admired the man in front of him. Few could have done what Sukja did, of that Ztar was certain.

###

The next three days, Sukja rarely left Archangel's side. He didn't hover, though. Sukja remained a gentle presence in the room unless Archangel made a request. Sukja also continued to address and think of his charge as Archangel, not Warren. The human seemed okay with that. Perhaps using his common name was too personal, too familiar.

Archangel slept a lot the first two days, attending mostly to basic needs and little else. The third day was better, he was more inquisitive and active. When Archangel woke the fourth day, Sukja noted a marked change in the human. He showed interest in living again, getting tea within minutes of rising. The ship's stores did not have anything similar to the coffee beverage Archangel had asked for, so Sukja had found a strong tea that proved to be to the human's liking.

Warren ate breakfast while Sukja read quietly in the sitting area. He was not entirely sure what he was eating, but it was good. It resembled an omelet, but made out of something grainer than eggs.

Although much of the past few days were lost to him, Warren did remember the plans he had made several days ago. He needed a distraction from this life that had become a living hell if he was not going to lose what was left of his sanity. It would help occupy his mind until his rescue.

Warren looked over at Sukja. "I want to learn your language."

Sukja looked up from his PI. He was surprised by the question that seemed to come out of nowhere, but it was a very good sign.

"Then that is what you should do." He purposefully did not offer to _teach_ Archangel the language. He could see the human contemplate that for a moment.

"You will teach me."

Ah, yes. The human is definitely recovering. He is issuing commands, Sukja noted.

Sukja lowered the PI to his lap. "The computer tutorial is extremely effective and a much better teacher than I would be."

"Tutorials are fine for basics. I want to know the nuisances, slang, how people really speak," Warren pressed.

Archangel locked eyes with the Sukja. He never could get over the incredible blueness of those eyes. He held Archangel's gaze and felt the man measuring him. Should he acquiesce to Archangel's demand? Perhaps a compromise.

"My schedule is normally quite full," Sukja informed. "But if you learn the basics, I will help you with the nuisances."

Warren released his eyes and returned to his food. "Acceptable," was all he would give the Turzent.

'I'm going to have my hands full with this one,' Sukja warned himself. At the same time, he was pleased for the human.

###

Ztar was getting exceedingly impatient. Four days and Sukja still wouldn't let him near Archangel. 'Who's in charge here?!' he thought with exasperation. Logic, though, told him that being with Archangel too soon could undo everything Sukja had accomplished the past few days. 'Patience was needed and would be rewarded,' his attendant had explained.

Filled with the usual imperial business, daytimes passed quickly. The latest problem was in the Mygra system. It seemed an insurgence was in the making. One imperial outpost had already been the victim of terrorist bombs. The Empire's military was already dealing with the matter, but the resistance was proving to be more widespread than initial intelligence reports indicated.

The nights were different. He relived the memories and sensations of the human and longed for the empty nights to be over.

###

The balance of the fourth day following Warren's brush with a psychological break brought a guided tour of the ship by Sukja. It was the first time he'd been outside his chambers since his arrival. Not until he stepped into the corridor outside his room did he realize how closed in he felt. Tight spaces had always disagreed with him. Thankfully, his chambers were generously sized. But still, confinement of any type was against his nature.

The first thing Warren learned was that the control panels recognized him through his biological signature and would only open doors that matched his security clearance. On Deck 2, the Imperial deck which included his chambers, Warren's clearance included an opulent observation lounge used for imperial receptions with floor to ceiling windows framing the stars and planets, the Emperor's private galley and beverage locker (like a wine cellar, Warren noted), and visitor lavatories. There were additional rooms he couldn't enter; the Emperor's private quarters (adjacent to Warren's), Sukja's quarters (also adjacent to Warren's but on the other side), the Imperial conference room, storage areas, and other rooms Sukja didn't identify.

The elevator controls, also bio-sig controlled, would stop only at decks where Warren was allowed. Deck 1 where the ship's bridge was located was off limits, as was Deck 5, which housed engineering and other sensitive areas. So Warren had access to Decks 2, 3, and 4. Deck 3 wasn't of much interest – crews quarters. The ship's stores, cargo and shuttle bays, and other areas Sukja didn't explain filled the fourth deck. Warren had access to stores only on that level.

Warren felt he had a good handle on the layout of the Mi-Lartui. Its interior arrangement was straightforward; basically a long rectangle with a main corridor down the center, with side passages off that. Sukja showed him images of the ship's exterior on the computer. It wasn't a rectangle, but it navigated internally like one. The ship was actually quite graceful in external appearance.

He wasn't sure, though, if he'd venture much in the future beyond the Imperial deck. The looks he got from crewmembers made him extremely uncomfortable. He felt everyone they passed knew why he was on board, what the Emperor was doing to him. It almost made him nauseous, but he toughed it out believing it important to physically navigate the ship's layout. That knowledge may prove critical in the future, such as if the X-men stormed the shipped to free him. At the tour's end though, Warren was glad to be back on his deck where few people roamed without invitation from the Emperor.

Re-entering his chambers, Warren immediately noticed that the bed was made, always with fresh bedding, and the room had been cleaned. Two days ago, Sukja had introduced the crew member from housekeeping that was assigned to Warren's chambers. Dorraj was a master at stealth, Warren had concluded, and suspected the man watched him secretly. How else do you explain that every time the cleaning had been performed while he was in the bathroom getting cleaned up in the morning regardless of when that occurred, or when he was away from his chambers, like this morning? Warren found it unnerving.

There was another bigger question as yet unasked. Warren hadn't broached the subject of whether they were traveling to Ztar's homeworld or other planet or if he lived in space. He wasn't certain he was ready to hear the answer if it was the latter. But regaining his faculties was bringing rise to his discomfort of being cooped up. Sooner or later he'd need to know his fate. Just not quite yet.

That night, Sukja and Warren dined together in Sukja's quarters 'for a change of scenery,' Sukja had said. They dined on a four-course meal from Ztar's private chef, complete with an alcoholic beverage.

"Tell me about the Empire," Warren prompted as soon as they sat down. Sukja had explained, informed, expounded all day. He was tired. The human's curiosity was insatiable! But he promised he would once they had finished their meal.

A short while later, Sukja swallowed his last bite of the Pji Tar, a delicacy from his home planet, Ozjaer.

"As promised, here is the story," he announced to his dinner partner. "Succinctly, though, because I'm tired of hearing myself speak," he said added with a smile. "The Turzent Empire began in Ztar's home system, the Ta'oc Worlds. They were an expansionistic species that had absorbed many nearby star systems already by the time Ztar came along. They had a strong military and their technology was advancing at a fast pace. Ztar worked his way up through the military ranks as he was recognized as a skilled tactician."

"At the same time Ztar was climbing the ranks, Ta'oc scientists were once again working on improving their species' genetics. Apparently, previous attempts met with mixed results. The Ta'oc DNA proved to be very sturdy stuff and did not give easily to augmentation. Military funding and personnel were funneled into the research in hopes that whatever benefits were derived, the military would get first dibs. Mostly, I'm told, they were hoping for super soldiers."

This sounded all too familiar to Warren. The same had been attempted on Earth and probably was still being pursued.

Sukja paused for a sip of Dison liqueur, which to Warren tasted like a strong fruit wine with a kick. "The military went looking for 'volunteers' amongst their ranks. It's unclear as to the whys and hows, but Ztar's name rose to the top. By this time, Ztar had become a mid level officer and garnered great respect and admiration from those he commanded. He also had many supporters in the higher ranks as well."

Warren was keenly interested in the story. He was learning potentially valuable information about his captor.

"But apparently, he also had some powerful enemies, because at that time reassignment to the augmentation program was likely a death sentence." Sukja let that hang in the air for a few moments.

After another sip of Dison, he continued. "Ztar's protests were fruitless and the reassignment was final. To make a long story short, the augmentation worked! But Ztar was the only soldier that survived the process. The augmentation made him bigger and much stronger. Actually, it succeeded in ways the scientists hadn't planned. Seems our Emperor possessed naturally occurring mutations that hadn't yet been triggered. Somehow the augmentation activated those mutations. The details are sketchy, but not many people walked out of that facility alive. Not only was Ztar now a powerful telepath, but he commanded an energy field that's lethal for some distance."

That really caught Warren's attention.

"The rest is your basic revenge story, plotted by a brilliant tactician still with friends in high places, who also hoped to gain from Ztar's new abilities. Those people are now long dead having served Ztar's purpose. Within a couple years, Ztar commanded all Ta'oc's military and technological might. Once those were his to control, the government fell and Ztar named himself Emperor. With the Ta'oc Worlds firmly under his power, he set his sights higher."

"He has been building his empire ever since. That was many years ago. The Turzent Empire now encompasses 368 inhabited or habitable planets at last count," Sukja finished his story and his drink.

The two men sat quietly for a few moments, until Sukja broke the silence. "It's late and ushering you around the ship exhausted me," he said with a smirk. Then he gently chided, "You must also be tired from all the questioning today!"

Sukja was pleasantly surprised when an ever so slight smile actually crossed Archangel's face. Even a small smile was a thing of beauty on his man. Imagine if you could see a complete one!

Without protest, Warren walked with Sukja to his chamber entrance – not yet trusted to roam free. Warren also knew the door would lock behind him and it would not open to his bio-sig.

Daytimes with Sukja were tolerable. He could occupy his mind with endless things to learn and, according to Sukja, endless questions to ask. But the nights were different. In the darkness, lying on the window seat, the terrors came. Unbidden memories and emotions gripped him. He did his best to push them down deep. And nightmares gripped him when he did finally fall fitfully asleep.

Each night he prayed that Ztar did not visit him. Four nights running, his prayers were answered. He wasn't sure how much longer God would protect him, but he felt his reprieve was coming to an end.

###

Day five after nearly succumbing to oblivion and Warren threw himself into learning the Turzent language and spent most of his time at that endeavor. It diverted his thinking from more painful ruminations. As Sukja had said, the tutorial was very good. The computer program probably used the same algorithms as the universal translators, Warren surmised. He found the language was coming to him more easily than he would have thought.

Sukja did spend breakfast with Warren that day, but explained that he must get back to his regular duties. After Sukja left, Warren had a second breakfast. He feared he was losing weight, which for him was not a good thing. His high-speed metabolism demanded quantities of food that would cause most to be morbidly obese. But the nightmare he was living left him without his usual appetite and he simply wasn't eating enough. Since his body carried no fat to speak of, the only thing it could burn was muscle. Warren had to eat more or he would quickly cause himself harm.

When language lessons got tiring, Warren explored other areas of the computer system his clearance allowed, learning more and more about the Turzent Empire. Some things were surprising (the citizens had more freedoms than he would have thought on those worlds that joined the Empire willingly), others disturbing (the use of forced labor). And so the threat of turning Earth into a labor planet if he didn't cooperate was not without precedent, at least that's what the computer said. At this juncture, Warren took nothing at face value.

Focusing on the language lessons also distracted him from the growing feeling of claustrophobia and anxiety. It was now very sharp, almost suffocating. Warren found himself looking out the windows at the stars more often. Daydreams of flight came unbidden at odd times. He pushed down the need for flight, just like the memories of the hours with Ztar.

That night they dined in Warren's chamber. Sukja seemed tense. Warren sensed it more than saw any outward signs. Sukja still chatted and acted as he had each evening the past few days. With the meal over and dishes taken to the kitchen, Sukja bid Warren good night and headed for the door. As his hand neared the control panel for the door, he hesitated.

Turning from the door, Sukja looked at Archangel, into the handsome face with those remarkable eyes. The first moment, Archangel simply looked inquisitively back Sukja. But then his eyes widened in understanding.

Warren's reprieve had just run out.

Sukja could do nothing more, he warned the human. The rest was up to Archangel and Ztar. He let the door shut behind him and Sukja locked the control panel.

###

"No! No! _No_!!" Warren screamed at the door Sukja had used to leave his prison. The room swam in front of him and he grabbed the table for support. "I can't do this again!" his voice became a whisper. Soon Ztar would come, would run his hands over his body, kiss him, force him to kiss back, touch his most private areas, drive himself inside Warren. 'God, I want to fight! I want to kill him! But Earth…'

He managed to make his way shakily over to the window seat, slid back into the corner, pulled his knees up to his chest with his head resting on them, and enveloped his body with his wings. Warren knew he couldn't hide that way from Ztar, but it felt comforting, isolating. His wings a shield against a universe that often defined him by his feathered appendages. They were his curse and his wondrous gift. From angel to demon and back again, the wings were always there in one form or another. They had given him total freedom and had enslaved him. Brought him sensual pleasures and intense pain. Currently, he believed they were one of the reasons he was at the mercy of a sadistic rapist far from home.

Funny, if you asked people if they'd like to have wings to fly free, most would say yes in a heartbeat. Just try it for awhile, though. The world can be a cruel place for one that looks like an iconic angel with all the associated preconceptions and expectations. It's not always easy having wings.

People tell him, have always told Warren, how beautiful he was. How stunning. There was a time when he may have believed that – when he was younger, a student at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Life was so much simpler then. He was so much simpler. More than once he was referred to as "joyous life." And he was. Warren was happy – he belonged to something important. A powerful man thought he was worthy of that. And his greatest joy was flying. He was born to fly – it was innate to his nature. To soar above the world, above the clouds, wind through his hair and over his wings. Total, complete, euphoric freedom.

Then life got complicated. It tried to destroy him many times. Tried to break his spirit through maim, transformation, death, heartbreak, and betrayal. Somehow through it all, he survived, but he wasn't the same. He no longer believed he was beautiful – neither inside nor out.

Warren wasn't sure how long he sat in the corner – minutes? An hour? Then he heard what he was dreading…Ztar's voice.

"Archangel?" the voice was deep, mixing inquiry with command.

'_No_!' Warren didn't move, couldn't move. Stay safe inside the cocoon of feathers. He felt Ztar sit on the edge of the seat. His heart was threatening to escape from his chest. He broke out into a sweat as dread gripped him.

Ztar observed the human. Did this creature know how impossibly beautiful he was? With outstretched wings enveloping him, Archangel sat in the corner. Only small parts of the rest of his body were visible – the top of shoulders, the golden hair on the back of his head, bare feet peeking out from beneath the long, white feathers – not much else. And this being belonged to him.

Ztar took hold of the nearest wing and eased it away ever so gently from Archangel's body.

Warren looked up – Ztar's face was right there, startling him. Suddenly, against his will, the words tumbled out.

"I can't do this! You're killing me! I can't do this even for a whole planet. Please don't force me to anymore. Let me go, I _beg_ you!" Warren's chest hurt with emotion.

The Emperor was taken aback by the cryful plea. For a brief instant, he considered letting the perfect being go. Then his brief brush with compassion passed.

"While that is possible, Archangel, I won't comply with your request. I have waited too long for you. What I experience with you I will not easily give up." Ztar paused and watched pain fill Archangel's eyes. "You will learn to cope. I will help you with that, if you wish. There are telepathic techniques I can employ."

Warren dropped his head and suppressed the urge to cry and scream at the same time.

"All I ask of you, Archangel, is a brief time with you at night. I dictate no other areas of your life. Your days are your own. Is that too high a price for your planet's freedom?" Ztar demanded.

Warren was incredulous at Ztar's perception of the situation. 'Dictate no other areas? What other areas? I'm a prisoner in a tin can in the middle of space. A damn piece of property! The price _is_ too high!' But he said nothing, it wasn't worth the effort. The man was a delusional rapist.

When no response was forthcoming, Ztar gently took Archangel's chin in his hand and turned his face toward him. "Is it?"

Warren gave the Emperor the answer he wanted. "No," he whispered back. Any other answer would have changed nothing. He was trapped in this nightmare. Would anyone come for him? Warren could see no way out other than a miracle rescue. Yet escape would mean doom for Earth. The future of a whole planet, _his_ planet, rested on his cooperation with this sadist. But Warren wasn't sure he would survive the price of Earth's freedom.

Ztar began stroking and caressing Warren, the hands running down his wings and back. The strokings made him feel like a pet. But this pet was the object of sexual desire; yet not worthy of care or consideration. He swallowed hard fighting back tears, knowing what was to come.

"Not here," he told the Emperor. "This is _my_ space," referring to the window seat. He hoped Ztar respected at least that much.

'Even the sound of his voice is sensual!' Ztar noted to himself. Or was it he was so enthralled that everything he saw in the human was biased?

"Very well," Ztar replied, getting up but leaving one knee on the window seat for leverage. Then he quickly scooped Archangel up in his arms and hauled him over to the bed before the human could react.

Astride his captive once again, he looked down at Archangel. "You can go away in your mind to that mountain valley, if you wish. I will not stop you, unless you go so far that you become unresponsive to my needs. Let me do to you as I wish. At night, your body is mine, but I'll leave most everything else to you. Those are the rules."

An object. A sex toy. Nothing more. It cut to his soul. A physical reaction to Ztar's words washed through Warren, a sort of sinking, nauseous wave that he had no word for. Like how he imagined one would feel if you were just told your hand was about to be axed off and you're helpless to prevent it.

Straddling Archangel's thighs, the Emperor leaned down and took the sensual mouth into his. To his pleasant surprise, there was no resistance to his tongue pushing inside. Oh, how he missed this! While he kissed heatedly, his hands found those heavenly wings and he dug his fingertips deep into the feathers to the membrane beneath. He was rewarded with a soft moan from Archangel that he knew the human tried to bite back. Ztar flashed into flames – such a little thing and he was on fire!

Warren forced himself to look at the man atop him. Fire flared in the eyes and it filled him with dread. He had experienced torture before, but nothing in Warren's life could have prepared him for what this alien emperor was putting him through. Torture and other intentionally inflicted pain is horrific and injures not only the body, but can wound the mind. What Warren was enduring went beyond that – it was slicing to his very soul.

Ztar forced himself to pull back. It was too soon to play hard with Archangel. Sukja warned him and he knew it to be true. Too much, too quickly and five days of work could be undone. 'Slow down, Ztar!' told scolded himself.

'Let's try something else," the Emperor said with heavy breath.

Warren was suddenly afraid. What was the barbarian going to do to him now?

Ztar picked up on Archangel's distress immediately. "No, Archangel. Don't be afraid," taking the human's face into his hands. "Tonight will be gentle. You've endured much – I understand that. Despite four nights without you, I will control myself."

Gentle? Warren didn't believe it for a moment and he steeled himself. He wanted to yell and swear and fight and run, but it would all be pointless. No, he had to endure and get through the next hour.

In a nimbleness belying his size, Ztar switched places with Archangel. Ztar was lying back on the plumped pillows and Archangel was sitting on the Emperor's hips, knees to either side of Ztar's torso.

With a hand around each wrist, Ztar used his thumbs to force open Archangel's tightly held fists. "Breathe, Archangel," he instructed when he wasn't certain the human was doing so.

Warren had been holding his breath it turned out. He restarted the breathing process. Then with a detachment he hadn't initiated on his own, he watched as the Emperor interlaced his fingers with Warren's and gently squeezed his hands.

"Such delicate hands – your bones are fine," Ztar observed, adding, "but strong."

Ztar guided the human's hands to his chest, then reached behind Archangel's head and drew him in for another intoxicating kiss. When he finally released Archangel's mouth, he held his face just above his own and looked into the blue eyes. Many of Ztar's past lovers had difficulty looking Ztar in the eyes.

Warren surprised himself – he returned Ztar's look without turning away. The inner strength that had dragged him back from the abyss was there once again. 'You will not destroy me!' it declared as he returned the searching gaze.

Ztar was impressed that the human held his gaze. Had the fierce spirit he had stealthy touched the first time he saw Archangel reawakened? He reached out with his mind to Archangel's and believed it so. This was to be nurtured and not destroyed!

"Spread your wings wide for me. I want them to surround us!"

Warren hesitated. For one thing, he wasn't sure he liked this "gentler" Ztar any better. It unnerved him more than terrified. At least so far, the absence of pain was a relief, but then again, the night was still young. Warren felt a slight mental nudge to obey and he did, rather than Ztar taking control and forcing compliance. Warren desperately wanted to maintain control over his body and mind as much as possible; it was all he had left.

Ztar's eyes wandered over his magnificent possession. Archangel was created for pleasures of the flesh, of that Ztar was certain. He drank him in. The sight left Ztar nearly breathless and even more aroused. The white wings like a canopy around them. So white they were radiant, nearly glowing in the soft lighting of the Archangel's chambers. The golden waves of hair. The crystalline blue of the eyes. Each color pure and clear. A face and body so perfect that it didn't seem mortal. Esserru! Everything about the human was ethereal and sensual. And all of it was his.

The lust and desire in Ztar's face and eyes sickened Warren as the alien's gaze roamed over him. It almost felt like a physical touch. He had been the object of desire in the past, but this was unprecedented in its extremeness. All added to the feeling of being a non-person and merely a sex object.

'God, I'm not going to survive this!' he nearly gave in to the growing dread and had to fight not to jump off the bed. What good would that do? 'Just get through it,' he told himself.

Ztar slid his hands to the back of Archangel's neck and released the fabric at its custom seams. With that done, the top removed easily.

Warren drew back slightly. So even his clothes were designed for the Emperor's convenience! But he must have known that – another detail lost to him from previous encounters. God, how much memory had he lost? Hands at his mid back eased him down closer to Ztar. "Kiss me."

Warren would have pulled back again, but the hands were now on the base of either wing, holding him in position. Kiss another man? Kiss this man?! Being kissed by him was difficult enough, but expecting Warren to initiate one? He couldn't do it!

"I can't…" was all he could say.

"You can."

No, that was going too far! He'd endure the sex and the pain, but he wouldn't do that. Warren pushed against Ztar's chest, but he was held firm by the much stronger man. He tried to rise up with his knees with the same result. Warren was very strong by human standards, but Ztar was incredibly powerful.

"Kiss me," the command came again.

Warren was running out of options. He thought briefly of a facial attack, but the voice projected into his head said Ztar was prepared that.

"Kiss me," Ztar ordered for the third time.

Warren gritted his teeth against being trapped.

Ztar gently massaged the base of Archangel's wings – it sent shivers through his body and the wings spread slightly higher. The response he'd hoped for.

Warren hated that his body betrayed him like that! He knew learned Ztar liked the shivers. But he still had a decision to make. Thoughts of Earth and its people ran through his mind. His world and the future of all humans rested squarely on his shoulders. But his male subjugator wanted Warren to kiss him and he just couldn't!

"I won't," he informed his captor. It was a huge risk, Warren knew. Certainly Ztar wouldn't punish Earth for this small infraction – would he? Warren held his breath and waited.

Ztar contemplated for a moment. Reading the human, he knew in part Archangel's heterosexual nature was behind the refusal, so it wasn't simple act of resistance. It truly was difficult for the human. He felt the trepidation in the human. This time he would allow the defiance him for the sake of the spirit rising up inside him once again. This time…

"That is your one defiant act," Ztar stated firmly. "The rest of the night is by my rules." And he commenced an evening of sexual bliss with his Archangel. When he entered his captive, Ztar was more gradual to limit Archangel's discomfort, while still satisfying Ztar's needs.

Afterward, looking down at the man that lie next to him in induced sleep, Ztar admired his fortitude. No sounds had emanated from Archangel this time, even though Ztar knew through telepathy that he had inflicted pain. While not as acute as their first two encounters, no pain was impossible with Ztar – it was a fact the Emperor lived with. Not possible, that is, if Ztar was going to indulge and satisfy himself.

And Ztar had also allowed Archangel to use detachment to cope. It had served other bedmates well in the past and as long as it did not go so far as to impede Ztar's enjoyment, he permitted its use.

Considering everything, Ztar was pleased with how he handled the night with Archangel and felt confident that no backward steps were taken with the human's recovery from the near disaster several nights ago. Ztar was also confident that Archangel would continue to adjust to his new life and be the lasting companion Ztar had been seeking for so long.

###

Sukja spread out a selection of clothing for his Emperor just as Ztar emerged from the bathroom, a towel around his waist.

"Good morning, Sukja."

"I take it that it is indeed a good morning?" Sukja inquired.

"You haven't checked in on Archangel yet this morning?" Ztar had approached the bed to look over the clothing choices. Ztar knew the answer before Sukja spoke as he reached out to Archangel's mind – sleeping.

"He hasn't yet risen. It _is_ quite early," Sukja pointed out.

Ztar had an especially long day ahead of him and had risen extremely early. In fact, it you'd be hard press to call it morning yet. A military cruiser lay along side the Mi-Lartui carrying one of his top generals. Apparently, an urgent matter had come up and the general wanted an early morning meeting.

"I was gentle last night, Sukja. Hopefully, it will be a calm morning for Archangel."

Sukja let out a silent exhale. Thank the gods! He had worried that Ztar's lust may have gotten the better of him. Although, since Sukja hadn't gotten any mental summons to Archangel's chamber, he had hoped that hadn't been the case.

"I've placed the morning briefs in their usual place. Commander Polzjen requested hers be the first reviewed," Sukja related the request. "She did not elaborate," he added anticipating the Emperor's next question.

"What is our ETA to Trapia System?" Ztar wanted an update.

"4.3 tomorrow."

'Early morning – good,' Ztar remarked to himself.

Ztar reached for his clothes, but then hesitated and looked at Sukja.

"We need to do what we can to make sure Archangel is comfortable."

That surprised Sukja. Ztar never voiced concern over his bedmates' comfort in the past, simply assuming Sukja would handle those mundane tasks.

"I will see to it, my Emperor."

Ztar gave a quick nod. With that he dismissed Sukja to eat a small morning meal his attendant had also delivered while reviewing the briefings before beginning the day as ruler of his Empire.

###

Sukja's next stop was ship's stores on Deck 4 for some items for Archangel's kitchen. The human went through more food than Sukja would have thought for the human's size. He hurriedly pulled out various items that might appeal to the human. Sukja was anxious to get back to check on how the human had come through the night. Ztar's "gentle" was relative and a matter of perspective.

Back on the Imperial level, Sukja stopped by his own suite. Not wanting to risk waking him, Sukja checked his monitor of the Archangel's chambers to see if the human had risen yet. Sure enough, the bed was empty and the bathroom door closed. He saw Dorraj was busy straightening up, apparently having received the signal that the human was showering. He'd wait for Archangel to emerge while he finished some tasks of his own.

###


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Tamed**

Warren was flying and it was wonderful!! Over woodlands and valleys he soared. His soul sang! Free and happy. The rush of air over his body, through feathers, was sensual. Awareness expanded beyond his physical body. He sensed miniscule magnetic currents and subtle changes in air pressure and temperature.

Catching an updraft and riding a downdraft to pick up speed. A distance horizon called to him – 'Come to me' and he did. Farther and farther he flew. Never tiring. Joyful loops and dives filled him with euphoria. The sky was his refuge and his lover. He knew it intimately. He caressed it with his wings. This was his realm.

But then as dreams do, this one too faded. When he woke to his chambers on the Mi-Lartui, tears well up. 'God, I need to get _out_ of here! I'm suffocating!'

That wasn't an option. Instead, he drowned his rising anxiety with a hot shower. Tears flowed down his cheeks and mingled with the water. All of it still seemed like a bad dream and he'd wake up any minute. This couldn't be reality! Yet he knew it was.

At least Ztar had been less aggressive the previous night, but that only meant less pain, not its absence. Warren had managed to hold back any cries when the Emperor entered him, but it had been hard. It was like the cries were not only from physical pain, but from an emotional pain that cut like a mortal wound. Detachment had helped, once Ztar had allowed it.

But how could he possibly survive this new reality with any semblance of sanity? Only three nights with the savage ruler and Warren doubted his ability to cope. 'But you have no choice!' he told himself. He braced himself against the shower wall as the emotions tried to rise up. Warren didn't allow himself to fall into hysterics, although he wanted to. The cleansing water flowed for some time.

Checking the viewscreen once again, Sukja was beginning to worry about the human. The bathroom door was still closed and it had been a long time. But he wasn't sure precisely the time Archangel had entered the bath. Sometime between attending to Ztar and returning from Deck 4. Perhaps he should go next door…

Warren felt in control enough to leave the bathroom. He hoped Sukja wasn't waiting – he just wasn't quite ready to face anyone this morning. With relief, he found the room empty.

And once again, the bed was made and the kitchen had been tidied. One of these days Warren would figure out how Dorraj knew when to come in! Must be sensors or visual monitoring. But stealth cleaning while Warren was in the bathroom meant the bathroom wasn't being unattended to, yet it was remarkably clean. Warren could only guess that the wet surfaces where somehow self-cleaning. Plus, his memory gaps made nothing a certainty over the past several days. The housekeeper could have come and gone several times and Warren may not recall.

He started a pot of tea and looked through the cabinets for something to eat. The food stock was running low. Something had to be done about that.

The sound of a chime caused Warren to jump. What was that?! It seemed to come from the direction of the front entrance. Over the comm, he heard Sukja's voice. "Archangel, may I enter?"

'This is a change,' Warren thought. 'I must have graduated from kindergarten! What would Sukja do if I said no?' Warren wasn't in the mood to play games, but he would phrase is his reply as a command. "Enter."

The point was not lost on Sukja. He suppressed a smile as he activated the door and entered. Setting the food stuffs on the counter, Sukja turned to Archangel. "I'll let you put these away so you can start organizing things yourself."

'Yeh, right. You're announcing no more a servant.' Warren translated silently.

Sukja broke the silence the human was unwilling to. "I have a busy day today, but I'd enjoy company for a quick breakfast," he offered. He wanted to make sure the human would be okay on his own today, or at least as best as Sukja could gauge.

"Suit yourself." Warren was feeling less than hospitable, but he'd tolerate the attendant rather than being alone with his thoughts.

In silence, the men prepared a light breakfast of tea and a cross between a sweet biscuit and bagel. Warren knew he'd be eating again as soon as Sukja left if that was all that breakfast consisted of.

"This is called a zante," Sukja said holding up the biscuit. "In case you want to get more from stores. In fact, you are free to visit stores to select your own food from now on. Your chamber door is no longer locked."

'Yippee!' Warren retorted in silent sarcasm. His cage had grown larger. Speaking of cages, Warren looked at Sukja over his mug of tea. He was ready to ask the big question.

"Does Ztar live permanently on this ship or only while traveling."

Sukja was wondering how long it would be before that question was posed. He and Ztar discussed the issue of a creature born to fly being aboard a ship in space. Ztar had picked up that Archangel's distress over his confinement was rapidly escalating.

Sukja jumped directly to the point of the question. "We will make accommodations for you, Archangel. The Emperor does not wish to cause you unnecessary discomfort."

'The man who rapes and brutalizes me doesn't want to cause me _unnecessary discomfort_?! Bullshit!!' was what Warren really wanted to say, but he didn't. It would gain him nothing.

"That's pretty hard to do in the middle of space!" he snapped instead.

Sukja remained steady. "Tomorrow we go into orbit around a planet called Trapia. It is very much like your home planet. You will be shuttled to the surface." Sukja left the rest to the human's imagination.

Warren raised his eyebrows at Sukja.

"How often will we stop or is this a one-time accommodation?" Warren didn't believe the ship would deviate from course very often just so the Emperor's plaything could go for a joyride.

"That is something between you and Ztar. This is his ship and his wishes will be obeyed."

Warren didn't press any further. He'd wait and see how tomorrow went. For today, he'd work on his Turzent language lessons and perhaps visit the observation room for awhile for a change of scene.

###

Ztar finished Commander Polzjen's briefing with some concern. Polzjen was Ztar's link on this ship to military intelligence. When she spoke, he listened. Her report recapped highlights of recent stirrings within The Systems Commonwealth.

The Commonwealth was a collective of sovereign worlds associated mostly by choice with a joint military. Commonwealth space was located some distance from the Turzent Empire. The Commonwealth and the Empire were well aware of each other, but for now the galaxy was large enough for two. Aside from mutual spying, the two managed to avoid conflicts, neither wanting to expend resources against an equally matched opponent.

Their tacit understanding kept each regime expanding generally away from the other. At least until now, according to Polzjen's intelligence briefing. He assumed the early meeting with General Gtar-Cro was regarding this issue.

The other briefs Ztar scanned quickly, knowing he'd get required details in his daily staff meeting. However, in the last report the word 'Earth' caught his attention. It noted that the scientific and monitoring team stationed near the Earth System had discovered a natural warp-space access point in the sector. This was interesting. He looked forward to learning more.

###

"Good morning, General," Ztar opened. He automatically scanned Gtar-Cro's mind for anything suspicious. When you're a self-proclaimed emperor, you trust no one. Finding nothing, Ztar ended the contact. All of Ztar's staff and crew knew they were dealing with a telepathic leader and routine scans were expected.

"Greetings, my Emperor. I know your schedule is full. Shall we get right to it?" Gtar-Cro said gesturing the Emperor to lead the way to the conference table, which Ztar did.

Ztar liked Gtar-Cro's no-nonsense, let's not waste time manner. He got right to the point.

Once both men were seated with briefs in front of them, Gtar-Cro began. "We believe the Commonwealth has had a change of expansion direction, issued from the top levels of their unified government. We believe this is driven by a discovery of resource-rich systems that would be valuable additions to their territory. Unfortunately, these systems come uncomfortably close to our space." Gtar-Cro paused to take a sip of water. He always had water with him, Ztar had learned early on.

"We have no intelligence that says the Commonwealth has any intentions to infringe our territory. However, these potential new Commonwealth systems are located in an area strategically desirable should one contemplate incursion into Turzent space."

"Show me," Ztar commanded.

Gtar-Cro activated the control panel embedded in the conference table to bring up a hologram of the sector of concern.

"Zramynian System?!" Ztar knew immediately why military intelligence was concerned.

The Zramynian System was rich in the compounds that help make FTL possible. A blend of compounds coats the inside of all FTL engines. The coating deflects the energies required for FLT, thus preventing the inner workings of the FTL engines from disintegrating.

Other systems also contain sources of the key compounds, but the Zramynian System has a vast reserve. It is a strategic military system and not one to be allowed to fall into enemy hands.

"Recommendations," Ztar commanded.

"We already have a strong military presence in the system as you know. I recommend heightened surveillance _and_ acquisition of the next system out from Zramynian." The Zramynian system already had a huge buffer zone around it, but adding another system would strengthen the Empire's position further. Gtar-Cro didn't waste the Emperor's time explaining all the whys and wherefores of his recommendation. Ztar was a keen strategist. Gtar-Cro waited for the Emperor to weigh the advantages and disadvantages. There were risks either way.

After a couple minutes, Ztar issued his orders. "Ensure their spies know that this is simply a small-scale acquisition that has been considered for some time. Routine business for the Empire. And since we know their expansion was also routine, neither side will give the acquisitions a second thought."

"Done, my Emperor." Gtar-Cro waited for Ztar to rise before standing himself, as protocol dictated.

As Ztar was leaving, he paused and turned back to Gtar-Cro. "Congratulations on your spouse's pregnancy." Then Emperor Ztar exited.

Gtar-Cro understood the two-edge message. First, it was only because of their longstanding relationship that Ztar even mentioned a personal matter to Gtar-Cro, so it was a sign of his respect. Second, only Gtar-Cro and his spouse knew she was going to have a child. So it was also a sign that Ztar's trust only went so far. Gtar-Cro took no offense – what is, is.

The daily staff briefing contained nothing of great urgency as Commander Polzjen had deferred to General Gtar-Cro's meeting with Ztar earlier.

Ztar asked for more details on the warp-space portal found near Archangel's home system. Who else knows of this and is anyone using it? He turned the matter over the military intelligence.

After another meeting on the latest expansion efforts and a myriad of routine tasks, Ztar was ready for the day to be over. He looked forward to his evening's distraction.

###

For a second night in a row, Ztar went easy on Archangel. He felt it best and Sukja agreed. The human was adapting well and Ztar didn't want to risk a backslide. He did warn Archangel not to get use to his gentler side. Ztar's desires were varied and each would need to be sated at some point.

###

The following morning, Warren woke up to the sight of a blue, green, and white planet outside his window. The first millisecond, he thought it was Earth, but he realized the Mi-Lartui must be orbiting the planet Sukja mentioned.

Warren tried to recall the name. 'Tra- something. Trat-. No. Trapia!'

Warren watched for some time as the ship circled the planet. It reminded him so much of Earth his heart hurt. But intense excitement also filled him. His wings nearly tingled with anticipation of flight. He tried not to get his hopes too high, lest they be crushed by Ztar or unforeseen events that cancelled the outing.

When the inevitable negative thoughts rose up about the planetary visit, Warren chose to push them down. 'You're being manipulated.' 'This is just a ploy.' 'It'll only be temporary freedom from your prison.' Regardless of Ztar's motives, if Warren was allowed the chance to fly, he would enjoy it for his own sake. To hell with the Emperor and Sukja and whatever mind games they may be playing. They would not take the joy of flying from him! And so he allowed himself to be cautiously excited. It was his first bit of happiness since Ztar.

Sukja told him yesterday to be ready at 8.0. As far as Warren could guessimate, that translated to roughly 10:00am. Sukja also said Warren should wear his flight suit, referring to his X-man uniform. So his uniform that used to represent so much was now relegated to being a flying suit, he thought sadly.

His front door chimed precisely at the appointment time. He followed Sukja down to the shuttle deck where Ztar and two crew members were waiting in front of one of the berthed shuttles. Pilot and co pilot? Warren wondered. Or guards, or both.

"Enjoy your excursion," Sukja said to both men and then turned to go.

"You're not coming?" Warren asked. He'd actually thought the man would. He wanted Sukja along. Spending time alone with Ztar beyond the bed would be intolerable. Sukja could have been a good buffer between Warren and the Emperor. But without the attendant along…

"No. This is your time with Ztar," and he left.

Warren fumed. 'Great! Let's spend time together on a little outing. Get to know each other better. God, this is absurdity!' But he obediently followed Ztar into the shuttle with the guards.

Ztar read the sarcastic thoughts and decided silence was the best option during the shuttle trip. He didn't want to push Archangel too hard. He did want to witness the human in flight, but he really had so desire to carry on a conversation with the human. Bedmates were just that – bedmates. There was little else they needed to do beyond pleasure him at night as far as Ztar was concerned.

That attitude differed little from rulers of the past. His people had a long history of emperors and empresses and most of them had one or more bedmates in addition to their spouse. While Ztar chose to as yet not take a spouse and only have one bedmate at a time, he followed tradition in most ways. In that tradition, it was an emperor's right to take whomever they wished as a nighttime companion. But rarely did those companions served any purpose beyond the bedchamber. And so during the brief ride to Trapia's surface, he chose to contemplate imperial matters rather than engage Archangel in any form of conversation.

The ride to Trapia's surface was uneventful. Warren was greatly relieved that Ztar did not speak during the short trip. The Emperor seemed to be otherwise absorbed in thought. That was fine with Warren. He listened instead to the chatter between the pilot and co-pilot and their communications to the Mi Lartui and watched out the front window.

The shuttle landed on a flat grassy area in the middle of a breathtaking mountain foothills valley. Did Ztar choose this location based on Warren's mental retreat? The odds were he did.

'Yes, Archangel. You are correct,' the words slid into his mind gently.

He looked at Ztar who was watching him. Warren was annoyed. He would not be that easily manipulated. Ztar's eyebrows rise slightly at that, but he said nothing.

The pilot opened the shuttle door. Ztar stood in front of Archangel, taking the human's upper arms in his large hands with a firm grip.

"_Do_ remember what's at stake here. When I call, you will come immediately. For the most part, I will give you freedom from my telepathic monitoring for the sake of your enjoyment of this time. When I re-establish contact, I will tell you. But should you betray my trust, I will punish your world severely. Understand?"

"Understood," Warren answered flatly.

"Good. There are no creatures here in the air that you need to worry about. On the ground, however, are large carnivores. If you land, be extremely wary."

As if to emphasize what Ztar said, the pilots had exited the shuttle and stood with guns at the ready on either side of the door.

Ztar released Warren and he moved quickly out of the shuttle, not trusting the Emperor wouldn't change his mind. One powerful leap and flap of his wings and he was airborne and he was instantly almost giddy with joy.

'God, this feels _so-o-o_ _good_!!'

His wings beat hard, a movement they hadn't performed in…how many days? The physical exertion was such a release. The sensation was bliss. Higher and higher he flew, gaining speed, drinking in the wind, welcoming the roar in his ears, feeling the changes in temperature and pressure as he climbed. The rapture of freedom swept through him. His soul sang as its most basic need was being fulfilled.

So much pent up longing! Tears of joy and relief filled his eyes and were quickly swept away by the wind. The embrace of the open sky was overwhelming. He rode the air currents, his wings spread wide catching the warmth of Trapia's sun. So long without sunlight! He hadn't realized until now how much he had missed it.

Leveling out and hovering, he looked down. The shuttle was small from his height, but every detail of the craft and the three Turzents clearly visible to his keen eyesight. Ztar rested on the steps of the shuttle looking up at him. The guards remained on either side of their Emperor. He didn't like being watched, but that wouldn't stop him from enjoying every moment of this escape. Ztar be damn!

He went through some of his X-man aerial practice maneuvers. He knew them as well as he knew himself and they came to him automatically. But having been cooped up for 10 days – first on the Shi'ar and Turzent cruisers during the negotiations and then with Ztar – the practice exercises were exhilarating.

Warren spent a long time putting himself through the paces. Since he had an audience, he decided to give them a bit more of a show. He went into an attack dive toward the shuttle, pushing himself to gain as much speed as possible. The wind screamed past his ears as he hurtled down.

Ztar watched Archangel swoop, dive, and bank for a long time, then finally pull up and hover. Archangel's agility and maneuverability were extraordinary! It was obvious to Ztar that he was putting himself through some sort of exercise run. He could confirm that information in the human's mind, but he said he would not intrude.

Ztar hadn't been completely honest with Archangel. Although he did not intrude telepathically, his empathic connection was working. Archangel's joy and euphoria transmitted to Ztar and he was enthralled with the intensity. Their impact nearly swayed him. He savored the vicarious emotions.

The Emperor watched Archangel in his dive and the speed reached was impressive. The flier headed straight for the shuttle. At what seemed the last possible moment, Archangel leveled out about 15 feet above the ground, swerved sharply to the left, and then was quickly out of sight beyond the trees that surrounded the small valley. 'Show-off' was the word that came to Ztar's mind. He couldn't help but smile.

Warren began to take in the smells and sights of this alien world. The trees had different forms and details than those of Earth. Colors were off, and the smell of the air had a twinge of something he couldn't name. All in all, though, amazingly similar to home. Even the clouds were similar. 'Isn't that something,' he thought. One thing that did feel odd was the magnetic currents – they weren't right.

'Not Earth,' he reminded himself.

Speeding along the tops of the trees, he flew deeper into the foothills toward the mountains. A small river caught his eye and he swooped lower to follow it upstream as close to the ground as he dared. Dodging, swerving, veering, up, down – he followed the contours of the riverbed. The world around him a blur as he pushed himself to the limit, faster and faster. Around another bend in the creek. Suddenly, the wall of a waterfall sprang in front of him.

'Shit!' Warren pulled up with all his might to avoid crashing into the rocks. He brought himself to a hover about 30 feet above the terrain, his heart racing.

'Whew, flyboy! That was close.' But the resulting adrenaline rush felt good.

Looking around, he realized had gone quite a distance. As always, though, his sense of direction told him where the shuttle sat. Or _did_ it?

'This is not Earth, buddy!' he scolded himself. Magnetic currents gave him his homing abilities and they were different here. Still, he was pretty certain of the general direction of the shuttle. So up he went again, higher and higher. He felt relief when he spotted the small valley and its shuttle visitor. Even from that distance, he could clearly see Ztar was now milling around and the guards in position nearby their Emperor.

Warren tested where the magnetics would have told him to go, and it was off by about 15 degrees. Actually, there was nothing wrong with the magnetics – it was his body that was off here. It was an unsettling sensation.

He continued to explore, keeping tabs on the shuttle location. At one point, he landed on a mountain precipice to take in the view. It was a breathtaking place. Like a picture post card with its mountains, valleys, and forests. He could live here. But he didn't dally at his landing spot, remembering the warning about carnivores.

Leaving the precipice, he enjoyed one of his favorite pastimes from when he stayed at his Colorado aerie – riding mountain thermals. Only here, there were no eagles with which to soar. As far as Warren could tell, he was alone in the Trapia skies. Catching an updraft, he let it sweep him higher and higher until it dissipated. Then banking, he side-slipped into a dive, pulling his wings closer, and plunged toward the mountain below. Highly-sensitive nerves at the base of feathers detected the subtle changes in the eddies and currents, telling him where to find the next updraft. Expanding his wings to their full reach, he caught it and he was rising rapidly once more.

'Better than any rollercoaster!' he exclaimed.

Warren had no idea how much time had passed when he got the call from Ztar. He heart sank, but he knew he had to return immediately. As he approached the valley, he noticed that Ztar had moved away from shuttle by several yards and was watching Warren approach.

As Warren cleared the tree line of the valley, he felt Ztar's mind touch.

'I want you to fly directly to me, Archangel.'

As Warren got very near, Ztar added to his command, 'Directly into my arms.'

Warren groaned to himself. A tricky maneuver when you _want_ to do it, and Warren did not. He wondered if he would knock Ztar over with backwash from his wings – that would be amusing!

'Not likely!' Ztar answered. Warren winced.

As he came in for a landing, Ztar stood his ground. 15 feet, 10 feet, 6 feet… Ztar reach up and grabbed Archangel's waist. The air swirled around them from the beating wings, the rhythmic sound of feathers against air filled his ears.

'By the gods, he is _so_ beautiful!' Ztar marveled, his desire instantly springing to life. Ztar pulled the human gently down from the air to him, Archangel's chest against Ztar's, wings held wide before folding in to the body.

"You are the most amazing being I have ever laid eyes on," Ztar stated with actual awe in his voice. He let Archangel slide down along his body to the ground, Ztar's hands still encircling Archangel's waist. 'I want you now!' he thought to himself.

Warren saw that look flare in Ztar's eyes. Lust!

"Time to go I ta-" He wasn't able to complete the question as Ztar had covered Warren's mouth with his own. Ztar's kiss was demanding, rough, and hungry. One hand moved from the waist to a wing base and grabbed hold, pulling Warren in tightly. Then just as suddenly, Ztar broke away and started back to the shuttle.

"Time to go!" he barked to the pilots.

Warren hoped the kiss didn't foreshadow what was to come that night.

###

Warren had sensed Ztar's growing agitation during the return shuttle flight. Watching the Emperor, he could almost see the heat building in the brown eyes. Warren tried to remain quiet and calm, although that was the complete opposite of how he felt inside. He was getting the distinct impression that Ztar may not wait until night. And if agitation translated to sexual aggression, nothing was going to be gentle. Warren started to feel ill.

As soon as they landed, Ztar nearly dragged Archangel by the arm from the shuttle. Straight to the elevator, up to Deck 2, and directly to Archangel's chambers. Once inside, Ztar quickly pinned Archangel to the wall, one hand on the human's chest and the other holding the perfect chin. He looked into the crystalline-blue eyes and he saw the trepidation. It only heightened his desire.

"Five minutes, Archangel. Then I return. Be out of those clothes and in that bed!" Ztar commanded in a voice already thick with lust.

Dread ran through Warren like ice as the powerful Turzent pressed him against the wall and looked into his eyes. Ztar was obviously going to be aggressive. Very bad! Could he find a way to quell the Emperor without further angering him? Was there something he could try that would lessen what was come? His mind raced but no inspiration came.

Then the Emperor released him and disappeared through the side door.

With few options, Warren did as ordered. Out of the X-man uniform, into his usual lounge wear, and quick trip to the bathroom. But he did not go to the bed. He waited for Ztar by his private entrance, his body vibrating from head to toe in response to the flood of adrenaline that had no outlet.

'God, don't let this be like the first two nights. Can't take that again!'

When Ztar came through the entrance, he too had changed, lounge pants but no top. He did not comment that Warren wasn't where he was told to be. Warren recognized the fire in the Turzent's dark eyes from the first savage nights with Ztar and his fear escalated. How much more could he endure and remain sane?!

'Not again!' Warren was desperate to find anything that might defuse the Emperor.

"Ztar, maybe we could have a drink first…?" Warren offered faintly, the only thing that sprang to mind. At the mercy once again of the alien who cared only about satisfying his own sadistic needs.

Ztar said nothing, but he didn't advance either. Warren watched the Emperor hesitate. Ztar's body trembled slightly as if fighting a fierce internal battle.

The sexual desire that had built in Ztar while returning to the ship was overwhelming him. He had to have Archangel now! His body burned to take his exquisite possession without restraint – the beast within him needed to be fed. But the rational part of his mind reminded him of the potential cost. Ztar was in turmoil.

All Warren wanted to do was fly away. He desperately looked for an escape – any escape. But running from his tormentor would gain him nothing. Besides, there was no where to go. He felt himself sliding toward panic. No options – he was trapped!

Sensing Archangel's panic and seeing him trembling added fuel to the fire. Then the fever in Ztar's body consumed him and trumped all reason. Ztar grabbed and pulled Archangel swiftly to him.

The kiss was brutal, suffocating. It seemed to go on forever. The hand behind his head wouldn't allow Warren to pull back even for air. Warren's ribs threatened to break under Ztar's powerful arm. Warren couldn't work his lungs in the crushing embrace. He needed air! In desperation, Warren brought his knee up hard into Ztar's groin. Ztar staggered back, eyes sparking with shock and anger.

"Ztar!" Warren said quickly, backing out of the Emperor's reach. "You were suffocating me – I couldn't _breathe_!"

Ztar stood with his hands on his knees. He glared at Warren, his eyes flaring in instant rage.

'Oh, god – I made it worse!' Warren's blood ran like ice water.

But yet Ztar hesitated. Like prey that knew it had been spotted, Warren remained perfectly still. Then from somewhere inside him, a calm voice said 'reach with your mind.'

Warren felt compelled by an inner force. He detached from the panic with an ease that did not come from conscious will and focused on his breathing. Closing his eyes, Warren turned inward to the tranquility that radiates from within when he's one with the wind, floating on updrafts, weightless. He found that serenity, gathered it up until it felt almost tangible, and sent it out to Ztar as a gift, an offering – projecting as he had learned from his telepathic mentor. Warren imagined his gift pouring through Ztar, transforming the heat to cool tranquility. Soothing…smoothing…stillness…peace.

At any moment, Warren expected to be grabbed again by Ztar. To his amazement, the Emperor did not advance on him. After what seemed like an eternity, Warren opened his eyes.

Ztar dropped his head and exhaled slowly. Then inhaled and exhaled. In. Out. In…out…

Warren waited, not daring to breathe. Ztar finally righted himself. And as the Emperor's eyes locked with Warren's, he saw the rage and hunger were gone. Warren took a breath.

"I don't know _how_ you did that," Ztar said with a quiet voice, "but it was…effective."

With that, Ztar exited to his chambers.

###

Ztar sat on the edge of his bed contemplating. The powerful telepath was shaken. No one had ever tamed him that way – or _any_ way, for that matter. And he wasn't entirely sure what 'that way' was. Obviously, it was through a mental touch, but decidedly not telepathy and or any form of mind control that he could name. In no way had Ztar felt threatened or his mind invaded. In fact, it was the reverse.

Perhaps through an empathic link? Yet nothing in Archangel's mind had indicated to Ztar that the human was a telepath or an empath. Plus empathic ability worked the opposite – feelings flowing _to_ the empath through the link, not out _toward_ someone else. And Ztar had never experienced anyone using his own empathic abilities against him to force a connection. Puzzling!

Now, with several minutes between him and the experience, his thanked whatever gods there might be that Archangel had found a way to calm him. The sexual and mental fever that had built up in him once they left Trapia had killed a consort in the past. Ztar hadn't intended to cause death, but it had happened. With Archangel's healing capabilities, he doubted that would have been the result. However, the mental trauma may have undone all the progress made over the past many days. He may have lost his beautiful Archangel forever.

Easing himself further onto the bed, Ztar leaned back against the pillows. Closing his eyes, he relived the experience. After rolling it over in his mind several times, Ztar still could not explain how Archangel did what he had. But he was able to finally put the experience into words. In his fevered state, Ztar's mind and body wanted only one thing – Archangel, savagely. But it felt as if his _soul_ wanted what Archangel was offering even more – peace.

###

Warren paced his chambers in trepidation. The calmness he experienced while doing whatever it was he did had done evaporated, quickly replaced by fear of the ramifications of what he had done. Would the Emperor punish Earth? Punish him? His heart raced with wild thoughts of what the violent ruler may do in retribution.

The irony was that Warren wasn't even sure what he had done. It just happened. As a mutant, he was familiar with how abilities can manifest when a person is under extreme duress. Is that what happened with Ztar? Or was it just the mental projection training from Xavier? But without being a telepath, Warren's abilities in that area were very limited, and the Turzent had an exceptionally strong mind. Yet Ztar had been calmed.

A telepath as powerful as Ztar appeared to be would hardly allow someone to control him. There would be ramifications, of that Warren was certain. For now, he could only wonder what the Emperor was thinking and perhaps planning. That unknown left him edgy and tense.

But as the remainder of the day unfolded, Ztar did not return to Warren's chambers. That night when he visited, Ztar said nothing of the incident, as if it hadn't happened. The Emperor was subdued, taking what he wanted and then leaving. No words were even spoken during the visit – telepathically or aloud. It was an odd and unnerving experience inside already disturbingly surreal existence.

###

Ztar was between meetings and tasks when he commed Sukja to join him in his chambers. He wanted to talk with his attendant about what Archangel had managed the day before. The episode nagged at him.

"My Emperor," Sukja greeted upon entering. Ztar was seated in his lounge area, leaning forward, elbows on his thighs. The observant attendant knew something was bothering his ruler just from the look in his eyes.

Sukja knew Ztar better than anyone else. Knew his moods, tastes, strengths, and weaknesses. What angered him and what soothed him. Ztar was not easy to work for – demanding, ambitious, impatient, and given to selfishness and anger. Blend that with a high intellect and his formidable mutant abilities and Ztar intimidated most people. Yet Sukja admired the man that had nearly single-handedly carved out an interstellar empire. In fact, in some star systems he had conquered, Ztar was viewed as a positive change.

Sukja saw much good in Ztar. Power had not gone to Ztar's head. He was a strong ruler, bordering on harsh, but he was just. He respected those around him when they performed to the best of their abilities. Ztar listened to other perspectives and changed his mind when reason said he should.

Years ago when he came to be the Emperor's attendant, Sukja had vowed to help Ztar live up to his potential. The Turzent ruler had many old emotional wounds and scars that needed to be healed. Progress had been made in some areas, in others not so much, such as in the bedchamber.

"Something happened yesterday that I want to discuss," the Emperor began.

"Anything to do with Archangel?" Sukja conjectured.

Ztar sat upright. "Actually, yes," he said in surprise. "He told you?"

Sukja shook his head. "Archangel and I do not discuss you," he reassured his Emperor.

Sukja never ceased impressing Ztar. Sometimes his attendant's instincts were uncanny. Ztar proceeded to give Sukja a summary of what Archangel had managed to do to calm the angry lust than had gripped him so fiercely.

Sukja was fascinated by what Ztar explained. What indeed had Archangel done to soothe the beast within the Emperor? No other bedmate had been able to do that.

"Are you angry with Archangel for what he did?" Sukja needed to know.

"I thought I might be, but no," Ztar said sitting back in the chair. "I'm not sure I want him doing it again, but it did allow me to regain control. What worries me is the how. If Archangel can control that part of me, what else is he capable of?"

Then Ztar shook his head in puzzlement. "The thing is, I can't find that Archangel knew he was able to do what he did. I probed him before he woke today and found nothing in his memories that he had ever done anything like that before. Xavier had taught him some rudimentary mental skills, but nothing more than a non-telepathic mind could perform. The closest I found was his training on mental projection, but that was to aid Xavier in communicating with Archangel telepathically. This was much more than that."

"Did your probing turn up anything else?"

"Nothing I didn't already know. But if he wasn't aware of this ability, there might be more. It's possible Archangel's mutation isn't fully matured."

Sukja knew Ztar was dancing around what was really bothering him. It wasn't Archangel's abilities, known or unknown.

"Did it feel like Archangel was controlling you?" Sukja felt that since Ztar said he wasn't angry with the human, likely the answer to his question would be no, Sukja would almost bet his life on it. Ztar had an intense hate of anyone trying to control him.

"No, not at all. That's the odd thing. The best I can do is to call it an offering. An offering that part of me decided to accept. Some part of me welcomed it!" Ztar rose out of his chair and walked to the window to look out into the blackness of space that was streaked with star trails.

"What part of you took that offering?"

Ztar didn't answer immediately. He watched the streaks of light pass by as the ship moved in FTL mode through the vastness of space.

"I'm not sure. My soul perhaps? But my soul wants Archangel. He's the answer to all my desires and prayers, Sukja. He fulfills me in bed where no other has. I needed him yesterday – my desire was so strong I lost control. Why would I welcome something that denied me what I most desired?"

Ztar turned back to Sukja, his face filled with confusion.

"Sometimes, Emperor, what our mind desires is not what our soul desires. Sometimes we confuse the two."

Ztar began to pace. "I'm not confused, Sukja! I want Archangel – every part of me wants him. Body, mind, _and_ soul or spirit or whatever you want to call it. I think about him constantly, almost to the point that I fear obsession. So you see, I am not confused about what I desire."

"But something made you choose the offering over satisfying your physical desire. Consider the possibility that at that specific moment in time, you needed the peacefulness he offered more than you needed his body."

Ztar paced and contemplated. "Perhaps I need to deal with whatever causes me to lose control," the Emperor said, more to himself than Sukja.

"Possibly your soul is saying that doing so is more important than fulfilling physical desire. But how do you do that?" Sukja pointed down a road he felt Ztar needed to travel.

Ztar approached the windows and looked out to space again. "I don't know. There's anger in me! It consumes me at times. I'm not sure I _can_ control it…it's all mixed up with my desires. But Archangel is strong, he can survive me." Ztar turned back to Sukja. "With Archangel, I don't have to hold back, Sukja. If I do lose control, he will live. For the first time in years, I don't have to restrain myself."

"Yet we know he is not indestructible, Ztar. We nearly lost him once already!" Sukja was concerned about the turn the conversation had taken. Ztar was looking for reasons to allow himself to lose control rather than learn how to retain control.

"I know that Sukja!" Ztar retorted with a dismissive wave. "I won't push him too far mentally, I learned my lesson. But I don't have to be so careful physically. Do you understand how much that means to me? I can enjoy myself again in the bedchamber. It's been so long…" Ztar closed his eyes against the pain of years of sexual frustration.

"Is that where the anger comes from?" Sukja probed. He already knew the answer.

"Maybe," the Emperor answered with a sigh. "But perhaps Archangel can help me with that. I don't _want_ to hurt him, Sukja. If I can find that place in his mind he used to calm me yesterday, I might be able to use it. Maybe I can tap into it to keep from losing control, if that happens again."

Sukja considered the approach. It seemed worth trying – anything to help avoid or minimize the harm to Archangel. This pairing needed to be successful. If it was not, Sukja feared for his Emperor.

"That may work, my Emperor. If you can prevent the anger, it would help ensure Archangel's continued service to you."

Ztar returned to the lounge area, sat heavily, and looked squarely at Sukja squarely. The Emperor's face seemed a mix of pain and hope.

"I can't lose this one, Sukja! I don't know if I can put into words what this human does to me. He creates fire in me, yes, but something else, too. It's hard to describe, but it feels like a deep need is being satisfied – an ache that's finally easing."

"Then we must do whatever is necessary to ensure Archangel remains with you."

Sukja was generally pleased with where the conversation finally ended up – a potential technique to help Ztar control the dark side of him. The Emperor's attendant was encouraged about the most private aspect of Ztar's life for the first time in many years.

###

Sukja chimed Archangel's chambers. It was late afternoon and he hoped to persuade the human to join him for a drink and to talk. Four days had passed since he and Ztar had discussed Ztar's anger and Archangel's ability to quell it. Sukja had hoped to pry enough information from Archangel himself to see if the human had noticed anything different about Ztar. But the conversation would be challenging. Archangel had no reason to trust or confide in Sukja.

Sukja heard Archangel's 'enter' through the comm and the door opened to his bio-sig. Archangel was eating at his table. To Sukja it seemed like the human was always eating something, yet he gained no weight. The human went through more food in three days than anyone else on the ship did in a week. After the first week, the human's food usage rose dramatically and the ship's procurement officer made sure Sukja knew it, in the officer's uniquely humorous way.

"You have a very healthy appetite!" Sukja attempted to set the right mood with gentle chiding.

Archangel merely shrugged, which Sukja was coming to understand as body language meaning it wasn't important or he didn't care.

"Would you like some Dison?" Sukja set down the bottle he brought with him.

"Why not," Warren answered flatly. He really didn't care today one way or the other. Actually, he cared very little about anything right now. Today, he felt numb. Yesterday, he was angry. The day before that, detached. The rollercoaster of emotions alone was driving him crazy.

Sukja snatched two glasses from the kitchen, joined Archangel at the table, and poured two tall glasses of the liqueur.

Sukja had thought about his approach to this conversation. It was only fourteen days since Archangel came aboard – such a short amount of time. Yet to Sukja it felt as though months had past. This had been a stressful time for everyone – Archangel, Ztar, and Sukja – and time seemed to measure differently since Earth. So much pain had been endured, so much fear, and so much hope.

Sukja fervently wished that the days got easier from this point forward. But if he was honest with himself, he knew there were many more difficult days and nights ahead for the trio. You do not forcibly rip someone from their home, life, and loved ones and expect any sense of normalcy in such a short span of time. Normalcy may be a dream that is never reality under the circumstances. The best Sukja's pragmatic side hoped for was a routine and evenness to evolve slowly, if erratically, over the next weeks and months.

"Archangel, may I speak freely and openly?" Sukja hoped honesty was the best approach with the human.

Warren munched on his snack of a high-protein, high-energy food bar the ship's procurement officer recommended to him. It was military rations, but seemed to help with his high caloric requirements.

'Lie, manipulate, be honest, I couldn't care less, Emperor's attendant,' is what Warren nearly said. But this alien had not been cruel to him and had brought him back from the brink of insanity. However, Warren wasn't sure if he should thank or curse Sukja for that.

"Whatever," is what Warren actually said.

Sukja wasn't sure how to interpret Archangel's reply – it was vague. He'd plunge ahead.

"I know you endure much at Ztar's hand. For that, I am sorry. I want to help, but there is little I can do directly. But I do have some small influence over the Emperor as his attendant and confidante." Sukja paused to allow that to settle. "Whether you choose to believe me or not, I do wish to help you. I can't change your situation, but I can perhaps show Ztar other ways to satisfy his need of you." Sukja finished and said no more. He'd let Archangel break the silence if he so chose.

Warren studied the attendant closely. He was still learning the alien's nonverbal communication signals. Warren firmly believed in the power of understanding body language. 95% of communication is body language, at least in humans. Whether that held true for Sukja's species, he didn't know. But he studied the body signals of the alien carefully regardless. Certain patterns were already developing, such as when the attendant was concerned, his head cocked slightly to one side. Or when he was attempting to maneuver Warren, one hand would come forward almost in a touching motion.

Warren was watching intently, memorizing the posture and motions and verbal inflictions. Sukja was likely in maneuvering mode and Warren wanted to make sure he caught every nuance.

"You tell me this why?" Warren asked without emotion as he felt none. He was completely in analytical mode.

Sukja was equally studying the human. Archangel seemed emotionally empty. Likely a defensive mechanism – no emotions equaled no emotional pain. That would be typical of unwilling bedmates in the past. Shutting down feelings was one of the most common coping techniques. But it also had its advantages. It gave Sukja a window of opportunity to talk rationally and logically with Ztar's companion.

"I want to know if what I've been suggesting to the Emperor has had any positive impacts," Sukja replied with complete honesty.

Now Warren was curious. What had Ztar and Sukja discussed? He was not naïve enough to believe that Ztar didn't talk about him to Sukja, and that they likely plotted ways to manipulate his behavior. But Sukja had just freely admitted that was the case. Interesting.

"And your suggestion was…" he lead.

"My apologies, Archangel, but that a confidence between me and the Emperor. Just know that I offered options."

Warren was silent for what he hoped was an uncomfortable length of time. He sipped his Dison and finished his food bar. Warren gave Sukja credit, he remained quiet.

"What do you want to know?" Curiosity was getting to him.

Sukja played the silence game in return. It was a technique that Archangel seemed to have mastered. Sukja used the silence to speak of his uncertainty on how to proceed without appearing offensive.

"Is Ztar treating you any less…aggressively?"

There were many ways Warren could answer that question, but it came down to two options – truthfully or otherwise. He cared very little which. He owed this Sukja nothing. He cared not in the least whether or not Sukja got his answer. But Warren did see an opportunity to possibly use Sukja to his purpose, assuming that the Emperor's attendant was being truthful about wanting to ease Warren's situation, of course. And that was yet to be verified.

Since the Trapia incident, Warren's objective was to get through the nightly ordeal with as little pain as possible and get the Emperor in and out of his bed quickly. He'd do what was required to safeguard Earth, but nothing more. So as deplorable as it was in his eyes, Warren submitted each night to his captor. But what the Emperor required from Warren was different every night – more submission, then less submission; more resistance, then less. Do this, but not that one night, then just the opposite the next.

Warren could answer truthfully that Ztar had not lost control of himself since Trapia, but it had only been four nights. The rest…that hadn't changed. Bottom line – Ztar still satisfied his own desires without regard to Warren.

"When I see a change in Ztar's behavior, I will let you know. Until then, just know that what I see is a sadist rapist completely absorbed in his own self-gratification with absolutely no remorse or regard for the consequences to anyone else," Warren felt an emotional relief after the words. It felt good to say it out loud. And it was the truth whether Sukja liked it or not.

The words were harsh, but sadly true, Sukja thought to himself. It was the dark side of the Emperor. Equally sad, it was the only side Archangel had seen. There was so much more to Ztar. It was that other side that kept Sukja in Ztar's service through the years and hopeful of the Emperor's future.

"Agreeable," Sukja said with a hint of a smile. He wanted to end the subtle mental dance between them. Archangel's intellect was stimulating and would keep him on his toes. This was no simple-minded sexual liaison. Though the number of words spoken was few, what was unsaid was volumes.

Warren set down his glass. He had learned much observing Sukja during the brief conversation. This highly-intelligent alien warranted extreme caution. Warren's early assessment of Sukja was not changed. The easy going manner belied a master manipulator. Warren would not trust this one.

"Do you want anything else?" Warren inquired, but not offensively so.

"That was all, Archangel. Thank you for your time," and Sukja rose.

Warren could let Sukja leave or he could ask him to stay. Warren's days were lonely. He was used to being around people and he missed it. Besides, Sukja could be a distraction from thoughts that would eventually turn to tonight's activities. A little diversion would be good.

"Would you tell me more about the Empire?" It was lame as the computer databases had everything he could possibly want to know about the Turzent Empire. But Sukja's would be a more personal perspective.

Sukja hesitated just enough to not look to overly eager, but he was very pleased the human asked him to stay. With business done, perhaps they could actually enjoy some time together.

"Of course," Sukja answered, returning to his seat. "What would you like to know?"

The balance of the afternoon was spent with Sukja sharing stories of the very beginnings of the Empire, stories that did not focus on Ztar, but on worlds and peoples that were the foundation of the vast Turzent territory.

###

The fifteenth day of Warren's captivity he woke feeling empty once again. 15 days. Had it only been that? It seemed like weeks, maybe months.

But there had been a small bright spot in the previous day. Warren had to admit that he enjoyed Sukja's stories the previous afternoon. It was apparent he was a master storyteller. Warren had become so completely absorbed in the tales of other worlds and people that when Sukja said it was time to go, Warren was actually saddened. They had remained together during a light dinner and more Dison had been consumed. Before he realized it, evening had fallen on the Mi-Lartui. And then Sukja was gone.

Ztar had come as he always did. Last night was Ztar was aggressive and the pain and shame were hard to endure. Ztar continued to be a man of few words, but he had pushed and prodded Warren into putting up resistance. Yet as soon as that resistance crossed some imaginary line, the mental control clamped down. God, how he hated that!

If only he could figure out what Ztar wanted, then Warren could do that, no more, and Ztar would return to his own chambers. With few options available, it seemed the best approach. Submit, allow Ztar to have his body, and then it was over.

The thought frightened Warren though. Two weeks and already he was already giving in. Where was his fighting spirit? His strength of will? 'Back on Earth,' he told himself sadly. 'On a planet with friends that hung you out to dry to save their own skins.'

But he didn't really mean that, did he? It wasn't true after all. There was still hope that Xavier would find a way to rescue him, wasn't there? He had to believe that. But until then, he'd try to hold onto himself. It wouldn't do to have the X-men come to his rescue only to find him mentally broken and an emotional basket case. Until then, he'd use whatever technique worked to save his sanity and keep Ztar happy to shield Earth.

He rose and began his morning routine. After breakfast, he slipped down to ship's stores restock his kitchen. Warren liked that he didn't run into many people on the way down or back. Supplies were tucked away on deck four to the rear of the ship. Unless you had business there, you wouldn't be in that part of the ship.

The procurement officer looked up from his PI as Warren entered his domain.

"Back so soon?" the officer's voice was lighthearted.

"I'm out of a few things," Warren said sheepishly. He knew he ate a lot and had been teased about often all while growing up and as an adult. At times, he actually had taken to eating secretly so his parents and friends didn't see how much he really put away. Back then, it would have raised too many questions.

"Archangel, if you keep this up we'll need to stop to resupply weeks earlier than planned! What are you doing with all the food?" the officer chided with a smile and chuckle.

"Sukja eats with me often," it was lame, but all he cared to come up with in response.

The procurement officer eyed him in friendly suspicion, apparently not buying the story, but he said nothing more about it.

"Help yourself, as always."

The officer had been quite helpful the first time Warren visited, explaining various food stuffs and how to prepare them. The officer hadn't made Warren feel uninformed or deficient of intelligence at his lack of knowledge of the alien cuisine, and he had appreciated the courtesy.

With an arm load of groceries, Warren wound his way back to the Imperial deck. Traversing the hall, he saw Ztar and another crew member heading his way. It was the first time he'd seen the Emperor outside his chambers. It seemed odd, akin to seeing a co-worker outside of the office for the first time. The person is out of place to your frame of reference. Ztar and the crew member were so engrossed in conversation that Ztar didn't see Warren until they were within a dozen paces of each other.

Warren actually had to fight the urge to turn around and go the opposite direction. But he managed to keep walking, getting closer to his chamber door.

He heard Ztar dismiss the crew member, who then hurriedly passed Warren going down the hall to the elevator.

"Visiting stores?"

'What an obvious question,' Warren thought sarcastically. You'd think the ruler of a vast interstellar empire could come up with something more original. Something about the question raised his hackles.

Warren didn't bother replying. He placed his hand over the bio-sig pad as soon as he could reach it. Ztar maneuvered himself in front of the doorway before Warren could slip in. Warren shifted the parcel of food in his arms, annoyed by Ztar's move.

"Are you settling then?" Ztar asked standing so close to Warren now that Warren gave in and took a half-step backwards, his hackles further rising.

'Yep, that's me. Getting settled into my life as the sex toy for a sadist,' Warren wrapped as much disgust as possible around the thought hoping Ztar was reading him.

Apparently he was by the reaction in the Emperor's eyes. The dark brown eyes narrowed at Warren and flashed. Suddenly, Ztar pushed Warren into the wall with enough force it sent shooting pain through his wing bases.

'The sex toy needs to learn his manners!' the Emperor's voice rang in Warren's head.

Warren looked directly up into Ztar's eyes, not wanting to back down no matter what price he may later pay. He hated this alien more than he thought he was capable of.

'The same could be said of the sadist,' Warren projected back.

Ztar pressed his body Warren's, pinning him against the bulkhead, parcels compressed between their bodies.

"Fiery spirits arouse me, Archangel," Ztar voiced audibly, inserting desire and lust into each word.

'Shit! Wrong reaction,' Warren thought to himself, in the same instant realizing Ztar would hear the thought.

"You should take care with your thoughts, human," Ztar warned as he slid his hand over and down one wing, knowing the physical response he'd get.

A shiver ran through Warren as Ztar's fingers ran over the feathers. 'Damn it!'

"I look forward to tonight," Ztar backed away in a quick move and headed down the hall.

'God damn filthy son of bitch!' Warren was almost as upset with himself as the Turzent as he entered his chambers and the door slid silently closed. Why was it everything he did backfired?!

'Because that's his strategy, fool!' he chastised himself.

A glance over at the bed and he knew Dorraj had been at work. Just another example of how he'd lost all power over his life. He had been stripped of everything – his life, his possessions, his dignity, his freedom, his privacy! And worst of all, he had lost control each night over what happened to his own body. Nothing was left to him – gone fifteen days ago in a blink of an eye. He was given no choice in the matter. Just a fucking _concession_!

Warren felt the anger filling him like liquid fire. He welcomed it. He literally threw the bag of food toward the kitchen; containers and packages scattered across the floor. Warren paced the length of the room, wings spread in growing fury.

'Look at this place! A posh cage for the pretty little bird!' he raged at himself. Everything was so sophisticated and proper – the furnishings, the flooring, bedding, artwork, right down to the plush bathroom towels. 'Like a fucking five-star hotel!'

"Right down to the goddamn maid service!" he yelled at the bed.

In one grab and sweep, he ripped the bedding from the mattress and sent it flying. "Just a piece of property to fuck every night?! It's _my_ body, bastard!" he roared at the bed. The pillows and finally the mattress were next to become airborne. He would have flung the bed frame, too, if it wasn't secured to the floor and wall.

Wrath and adrenaline took total control of Warren. Inanimate objects flew – anything not bolted down. Chairs, vases, pictures, the table.

'Even my fucking clothes are for his convenience!' Warren ranted as he yanked open the wardrobe doors so hard the hinges gave way and one door dropped to the floor and the other dangled precariously. Warren was no weakling!

'This is what I think of your fucking clothes!' And then every piece of custom-made clothing was torn in two and thrown wildly. It felt so satisfying! But he wasn't done yet.

The bathroom saw his fury next. Towels were expelled from their cabinet. Toiletries were hurled across his chambers to land in the kitchen area. 'Let's see Dorraj clean this up in fifteen minutes!'

And still he raged. Storming to the kitchen, boxes and packages were ejected from the storage cabinets, their contents raining down everywhere. Liquids oozed across the counters and floor as he smashed their containers.

'So I eat too much?! Maybe I'll eat nothing at all! No more concession to screw! Then we'll see what happens to the goddamn Accord!'

Glasses and dishes shattered on the floor or against the walls and shards of glass or whatever material they were made of flew through the air like shrapnel. He hurled the Dison at the windows and the bottle exploded and the liqueur ran down to the floor. God, breaking dishes felt good! The sound alone was gratifying.

Realizing he'd missed the computer, and started in that direction, but he hesitated. The computer had been his one daily escape. He left it.

Then the rage began to wane he stood in the middle of his chambers amid the destruction. He began shaking as his body started crashing from the rage-induced adrenaline rush. His knees became jelly and he sank to the floor. He hadn't gone berserk like that since Apocalypse. But it had felt so incredibly good!! Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply to steady himself. In…out…in…out. Warren calmed.

A minute later he opened his eyes and surveyed the damage. The place was totally trashed! Oh, god, what would Ztar do to him – to Earth?! The thought send shivers of fear through him. There were numerous ways Warren could image that Ztar would exact payment for his handiwork.

This was way beyond what he could clean up and no one would notice. He needed help.

'Stupid! Childish! What the fuck was I thinking?!' he yelled at himself. 'Obviously, thought had _nothing_ to do with this, Worthington.'

When he felt steadier, he stood. Maybe Sukja would help? He hated to ask, but for the life of him he couldn't come up with any other options. Ztar would learn of this one way or the other. He just didn't not want Ztar to actually see the mess. Not because he cared what the Emperor thought of his temper tantrum, but because it would vividly illustrate how much the Emperor had gotten to him.

Warren pressed the direct comm to Sukja's room the attendant had told him about that first day on ship. No answer.

'Damn, now what?'

Warren was very glad he hadn't destroyed the PI. While he hadn't used the PI to link with the ship's comm system before, it seemed straightforward. He queried as to Sukja's location based on where his last bio-sig was scanned. The computer told him Sukja was likely in Ztar's briefing room. He tried getting the same information about Ztar, but that required higher security clearance than Warren had. He could only hope Sukja wasn't with Ztar.

Activating the comm in the briefing room, Warren paged Sukja.

"Archangel?!" came the surprised reply to the comm call.

"Could you come to my chambers?" Warren asked hesitantly.

"Is something wrong?"

Warren heard the concern in Sukja's voice.

"No, everything's fine. Just when you can get away…"

"I'll be right there."

Sukja was very worried. What would cause Archangel to seek him out? He nearly ran to the elevator.

As soon as Warren heard the chime, the embarrassed hit him. 'God, could I have acted more immature?' he asked himself. But he had to face up to his actions. He opened the door.

Sukja looked at Archangel's face – something was definitely amiss. Then Archangel stepped back and Sukja saw the room. It was in total and complete shambles! Sukja looked quickly back at Archangel.

"Archangel?! What-?" Sukja had no words as he stepped into the room and realized the scope of the damage.

"I'm sorry, Sukja." Warren started in a near whisper. "I-I don't know what happened. I just lost control! But Ztar in the hall…he just made me so angry!" But with each word, his voice grew stronger and suddenly he was on the verge of being angry again.

Not in all the years that Sukja had assisted Ztar's companions had he seen such destruction. A few objects thrown and broken, yes. Outbursts of anger and rage were to be expected. But _this_?!

He moved through the chambers, stepping over the debris on the floor, glass and food crunching underfoot. Nothing was left untouched from the looks of it, save the desk and PI.

Archangel was fidgeting to one side, watching Sukja.

'How do I handle this?' the attendant wondered.

"Sukja?" Warren prompted timidly. Would this man help him or go straight to Ztar?

Archangel's voice was tense and it was obvious that the human was nervous. And he should be. This was unacceptable behavior! Sukja felt himself become angry at the wanton destruction of the room he had so carefully prepared for the human. But Sukja held his emotions in check. The first order of business would be to get the mess cleaned up. There would be time for anger and ramifications later. Sukja turned to face the human.

"I will call a cleaning crew to take care of this. You will wait in the observation room until I come for you," he commanded firmly.

He felt like a naughty child sent to time-out. Warren wanted to say something, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He wasn't sorry for what he did. What worried him was the price to be paid for his actions. He left his chambers and went down the hall to the observation room as instructed to wait.

Warren could summon no remorse for his actions. Why should he? He was the victim and had every right to be angry. And if that anger resulted in the destruction of his room, so what? His _life_ had been destroyed! In fact, his room looked exactly like his life – shattered and in ruins.

But it was childish to throw a violent tantrum. That he allowed himself to behave like that did bother him. Yet considering the pernicious circumstances, he'd give himself a pass on this outburst.

And he waited. It felt like days. Warren passed the time watching the star streaks. He made a conscious choice to think about something other than what just occurred and its consequences. Instead, he relived good memories from the past, successfully avoiding thinking too much about the here and now.

###

By the time the shocked cleaning crew had completed their work and items that had been destroyed were replaced, nearly three hours had passed. Sukja would arrange to have the clothes replaced. Archangel would need to restock his kitchen with food, but that's the least the human could do.

Sukja was ready to retrieve Archangel. While he and the crew worked, he had formed his approach to the situation. He had also determined how he would frame the event to Ztar as it would be impossible for the Emperor not to notice the change in the room's décor or to hide what Archangel did from his telepathy.

"Archangel, you can return to your chambers now," Sukja said without emotion from the doorway of the observation room.

Warren said nothing as he followed Sukja down the hall. His chambers were arranged as before, but all the damaged items had been replaced. The artwork and broken chairs and table were new and the bedding was different. The wardrobe doors fixed. He guessed that all the dishes had likely also been replaced. Everything was crisp and clean with no signs of the destruction from three hours ago.

"Thank you, Sukja," Warren ventured, trying to look a little remorseful, but only a little.

Sukja stood facing the human squarely. "Archangel, that behavior is not to be repeated. Destruction of Imperial property is unacceptable and will not be tolerated," Sukja said firmly.

Warren felt his ire rise. How dare this son of a bitch reprimand him! His life was totally screwed, and this attendant was scolding him for trashing his room?!

"But," Sukja continued before Archangel could respond, softening his voice, "I understand. I'm not sure I would have held my anger in check as long as you did if I were in your place."

Warren studied the attendant with suspicion. He was either trying to play Warren or he was truly giving him a pass out of sympathy.

"I have every reason to be angry," Warren said bluntly to the alien, looking him in the eyes.

"Agreed."

"I don't regret what I did," he pushed further, watching closely.

"Neither would I."

Warren didn't like the answers. They smacked too much of what the alien likely thought he'd want to hear to manipulate Warren into letting the anger go.

"You and Ztar should go screw each other!" he said in disgust, turned abruptly away from the Emperor's puppet, and exited his chambers to return to the observation room.

Warren sat with his back to the stars. During this self-imposed time-out, he allowed himself to contemplate his new life, if you could call it that. But he tried to look at his situation from a detached perspective. Okay, so days one through fourteen he spent in a lot of shock, avoidance, and denial with a healthy smattering of self-pity thrown in for good measure. But now the anger was really setting in. He might like this stage better – it may not hurt as much.

Yet he knew his outlets were limited for the anger, so caution was necessary. Likely, Sukja and Ztar would not tolerate another rampage. Sukja was a potential verbal target, but Ztar would likely squelch that if Sukja complained. And he couldn't take it out on Ztar as Earth's safety rested on him cooperating with Ztar. Warren moaned at that thought.

Cooperating meant allowing himself to be raped every night. God, how could anyone expect him to do that? Did the Shi'ar and Xavier know what Ztar wanted with him when the Accord was signed? How could they not? Warren hadn't read the whole document, so he had no idea what they knew or didn't know. Warren just couldn't bring himself to accept that the Professor had willingly let him be taken regardless of what Xavier may have known. Yet he obviously had. And there were only so many logical reasons the Emperor would have wanted Warren. With Earth's future on the line, just how much would Xavier and the Shi'ar have been willing to turn a blind eye to?

Warren sighed. So many questions with no answers. He should stop torturing himself with them. If only he could get into the sky to clear his head. But that wasn't to be. His most precious sanctuary was now at the whim of the Turzent ruler. Trapia was only six days ago and Warren couldn't image they would stop again for his benefit anytime soon.

He rose from the window bench and headed back to his room. Enough thinking and anger for one day.

'Need to pace myself emotionally,' he thought, 'or I'll drive myself crazy.'

And so once again he delved into the Turzent language lessons that provided for his distraction. When that grew tiresome, he faced the procurement officer for the second time that day to restock his kitchen. Although Warren wasn't sure why the officer didn't say anything about the second trip – did Sukja give him a heads up? – he was grateful. Emotionally, he just wasn't sure how much more he could handle at the moment.

###

Sukja took Archangel's reaction in stride. He had absorbed the anger from many of Ztar's past bedmates. Most of them quickly learned the futility in directing their anger at the Emperor and so Sukja usually ended up as the surrogate target. And that was fine – part of the job.

He returned to his own chambers after Archangel had stormed down the hall. Sukja would wait until Archangel returned to his chambers and check on the human through the monitoring system. If he saw any signs of a great distress or anger, he'd see what he could do to calm him. Hopefully, though, the outburst that morning would be the last for today. Sukja fully expected more in the coming days.

###

"He did _what_?!" Ztar's voice was quite loud, nearly reverberating off his chamber walls. Sukja feared Archangel may actually hear through the bulkhead.

Sukja remained matter-of-fact. "Everything has been cleaned, repaired, or replaced. He has been calm the rest of day."

"No one else ever dared go that far!" Ztar began pacing. "The whole chamber, Sukja?"

"Yes, my Emperor."

"The kitchen? The bathroom? _Everything_?"

"Complete and total destruction. Right down to the food in the storage cabinets," Sukja actually smiled at that.

Ztar looked at Sukja with an odd expression. "You find that amusing?"

"It's just that he was so very thorough, my Emperor. But he must value the computer – it was the only thing that escaped unscathed. I find that interesting."

Ztar continued pacing. He was very unhappy with Archangel.

"Emperor, what are you thinking?" Sukja inquired.

"I'm upset with him, Sukja. This was a clear act of rebellion! He needs to understand that won't be tolerated."

Sukja leaned against the kitchen counter and watched Ztar pace in agitation.

"I believe it more an act of anger. It is a natural progression of his emotions, my Emperor. The shock and denial are wearing off. Anger, or more accurately in Archangel's case, rage comes next. I wouldn't label it rebellion."

Ztar came to a stop, holding his attendant's gaze. "I'm not sure I'm that generous."

"Give him time, my Emperor. The rage should also pass as he moves closer to accepting his new life."

The Emperor walked to the liquor storage and poured two glasses, handing one to Sukja before speaking again.

"So how do we handle this incident?"

"I already have. I told him his actions were unacceptable and not to be repeated. My advice is to let it go. Allow him the outburst and move on."

"I'm not sure I can hold my tongue on this," Ztar admitted. He was still upset with the human.

"Then treat it with humor. But don't retaliate out of your own anger – you will only do more harm than good," Sukja coached, hoping Ztar would follow the suggestion. "Besides, you don't want Archangel to think he can control your emotions with that type of behavior. You need to remain in control by making conscious decisions about how you react to provocation. I'm not saying that's what Archangel intended, but if you react to his anger with anger, he may come to believe he can manipulate or control you emotionally."

Ztar contemplated Sukja's advice. It was sound from all angles. Especially the last part. He trusted Sukja completely on matters such as these. His attendant had managed many bedmate transitions over the years. When the pairing ended or failed, it was never because of Sukja. He'd listen to his attendant again with Archangel. Of all the pairings through the years, this is the one Ztar felt _had_ to work. He wanted the human more than anything he had wanted in a very long time.

"Very well, Sukja. We'll let it go as long as it's not repeated. My tolerance has it limits," Ztar warned as if Sukja didn't already know.

"Understood."

Ztar sipped his drink. "I told you he had a fiery spirit, Sukja!" Ztar said almost with pride.

"You did indeed." Sukja smiled and exited his Emperor's chambers.

Sukja moved toward the exit. "I will check on Archangel on my way back to my chambers to make certain he is still calm."

"Sukja," Ztar said almost hesitantly, "I wouldn't call Archangel's current emotional state exactly calm…"

###

When his door chimed, Warren knew it could only be one person. And he wasn't sure he wanted to see the man right now. Likely, he was coming to make sure Warren was still behaving himself. Well, he was. To be honest with himself, he wasn't sure how long that'd last, but for now he was quiet. But anger simmered just below the surface.

'Might as well get this over with,' he thought with a gulp of Dison. He had raided Ztar's liquor locker earlier to restock his supply. He had already down half the bottle sitting in his new, overstuffed chair.

"Enter," he said with a heavy sigh he hoped transmitted through the comm.

One look at the human's face and Sukja was already worried. It had foul mood written all over it.

"Good evening, Archangel."

"Here to check up on the human?" Warren asked venomously, taking another long drink of alcohol.

Ztar could not find the human this way – the Emperor's anger would flare without a doubt and no good would come of that.

"As a matter of fact, yes. And I'm glad I did." Sukja left it at that.

Warren contemplated taking the bait. Should he, shouldn't he? Oh, the choices he was forced to make!

"And why exactly is that?" he asked icily, deciding to take the attendant's dangling bait just to see where it might lead.

Sukja joined Archangel in the sitting area. "You must enjoy Ztar's more aggressive side."

Warren narrowed his eyes. That wasn't where he thought this would go. "Get to the point, attendant," he ordered in a low tone.

"When Ztar comes to you tonight, your attitude will determine much of how things transpire. In this mood, things will not be pleasant." Sukja hoped the honesty would get through to the human. He really didn't want to see Archangel suffer unnecessary at Ztar's hands.

Warren took another gulp of Dison before responding. "Things with Ztar are _never_ pleasant!" he growled.

"They can be unpleasant or very unpleasant, your choice."

'_Choice_?! This alien is trying to tell me I have a choice?' Warren couldn't believe his ears.

"You seem to think me a fool or an idiot. I have no choices here!" he replied with acid.

"Perhaps the wrong word. Your attitude toward Ztar will influence his treatment of you," Sukja rephrased.

"I got it already!" What an arrogant son of a bitch his attendant was. If I'm nice to my rapist, then I'll be treated nicely in return? God, what a crock of shit!

"As long as you know that your mood directly translates to how you're treated. In _that_ way, it's your choice, your decision. But since you already know all this, I'll bid you good evening!"

Sukja rose and headed toward the door, but paused before exiting.

"Your behavior today took some explaining. Ztar was not impressed, but tolerant knowing it was a reaction to the circumstances. However, couple that with your mood this evening, and you may push him exactly where you don't want him to go. Take care in your actions, Archangel." And Sukja left Archangel to contemplate his words.

Warren nearly threw the bottle of Dison at the door as it closed behind the alien. Nearly. As much as he hated to admit it, Sukja was right. Warren did already know that if Ztar found him in this mood, that things would be decidedly unpleasant tonight. So he did actually have a choice; choice being relative – unpleasant rape or very unpleasant rape. Good god, what his life had come to.

###

Ztar wrapped up his evening reviewing the last of the reports from various imperial sectors over a quiet dinner in his chambers. His thoughts turned quickly to Archangel and the heat in his body was immediate. Would Archangel always have that affect on him or was it the newness of the human? Something told Ztar it would always be that way. It was powerful and intense and he never wanted it to be otherwise. The seductiveness of human's body was without equal, at least to Ztar. And he willingly and enthusiastically succumbed to it.

Passing through the entry to Archangel's chambers, he looked around for the human but did not see him. The bathroom door was open, so the human wasn't there. Odd. He should be waiting for him.

Leaving Archangel's chambers, Ztar went to the only other spot he knew Archangel frequented, the observation lounge. And there he was, seated in the corner of a window bench staring out at the stars. For a moment, Ztar's heart hurt for the winged being. Immured aboard a ship in space had to be more difficult than Ztar could begin to comprehend, even with telepathic probings.

Archangel held a bottle of what appeared to be Dison in his hand. Would the human turn to alcohol to drown his emotions? Ztar hoped not.

"Archangel, it's time to come to bed," Ztar said simply. No sense dancing around the issue.

At first it didn't seem that Archangel had heard him. There was no movement or reply. Ztar simply waited.

Then he saw the shoulders rise and lower as if the human had taken a deep breath and let it out slowly. He rose and faced Ztar.

Warren looked at his tormentor. There he stood, waiting for Warren to willing join him in bed where he'd rape Warren for what, the eleventh time? It was getting so that Warren might begin losing count. Fifteen nights with four nights off after his brush with oblivion. Yep, eleven times with no end in sight.

After Sukja left, Warren decided he didn't want to provoke Ztar further tonight. He wasn't up for what that might mean, despite his anger. It had been a hard, emotionally draining enough day already. Tonight, he chose to submit quietly with hopes of getting off as easy as possible. He just hadn't felt like waiting for the inevitable in his chambers.

As Archangel took slow steps toward Ztar, the Emperor turned and headed back to Archangel's chambers. Things looked hopeful that the anger had been calmed, he thought. Archangel had barely cleared the doorway and Ztar took him in his arms for a deep kiss. His body was already on fire and he didn't care to waste time.

Warren allowed Ztar's tongue in his mouth and the Emperor probed and tasted him. He let the nearly empty bottle drop to the floor. Ztar's arms encircle him and drew him in tightly. Skilled hands began to stimulate the wings and Warren trembled. It never failed to happen no matter how hard Warren attempted to stifle the shivers – it was an auto-reflex impossible to suppress.

Ztar released Archangel from the intense kiss and nipped the full lips before brushing his lips across a cheek and down the neck. He desired a gasp from the human and he squeezed his hand hard around the top edge of the wing just where it emerged from the back, holding the human close to his chest.

When Ztar squeezed the wing edge hard, it hurt – a lot! A hiss escaped Warren before he could stop it. The Emperor was holding him tight and there was no pulling away.

'Don't let be one of those nights!' Warren prayed.

Then a second, even harder grip sent shooting pain through his wing and he inhaled sharply. Warren closed his eyes against the pain and clenched his fists. He learned early on that protests and struggles only spurred the Emperor. He would simply have to endure or things could quickly escalate. He shoved down rising anger with so much force he nearly felt it physically.

The offending hand released his wing and smoothed the bruised area with gentle strokes, as Ztar's mouth returned to Warren's. He couldn't help but think Ztar was trying to show his displeasure about today's headline event.

When the kiss was over, Ztar pushed Archangel back slightly and looked into the blue eyes.

"I see you had some redecorating done."

Warren tried to meet Ztar's eyes, but it was difficult.

"If there was something you didn't like about your chambers, you should have told Sukja and he would have corrected the problem," Ztar said smoothly.

Warren remained silent. What could he say?

"I trust all is to your liking now and the room will remain as it is," Ztar said raising Archangel's chin up with a finger to fully face him, allowing a slight smile to cross his face.

There were many things Warren could say to the Emperor at that moment, none of them without expletives. But he held his tongue and his anger for his own sake. He just wanted to get the night's activity over with.

For the most part, Ztar held himself in check – Warren had certainly experienced worse. But when the Emperor thrust into him, it was abrupt and rough and the pain was searing. Warren thought he may have actually drawn blood from digging his nails into his palms in an effort not to cry out. Likely, this was Ztar's way of showing his displeasure for Warren's destructive rampage, though Ztar said nothing to that affect. But Warren would put money on it.

###

After the destruction of his chambers, Warren's anger simmered barely below the surface. The rampage had felt good, but it only went so far. The real target of his rage was Ztar, but the Emperor was off limits if Earth was to remain unharmed. Warren imagined what he would do to Ztar given a chance without ramifications. The imagery was vicious. So much so, it frightened him. Old memories of his days as Apocalypse's Death resurfaced with those brutal imaginings.

'That's _not_ what you want to become!' he warned himself. Yet the anger was intense and it had no outlet.

Following his rampage, Warren spent some of his time pacing off the anger – either in his chambers, the observation lounge, or the corridor of Deck 2. He'd do anything for a good workout in the X-mansion danger room. Why the hell didn't Ztar have a workout room, punching bag, something!

His favorite distraction, the computer and language lessons, held no interest. If he did sit at the terminal, Warren only became more agitated when he made a language mistake or when some other minor thing didn't go exactly or as quickly as expected. Everything irritated him.

Sukja irritated him. The day after Warren's little tantrum, he had managed to avoid the attendant by ignoring Sukja's chimes at his door throughout the day. By the end of that day, just the sound of the chime was enough to drive him over the edge. Good God, couldn't the man leave his alone for even a day?! Just the thought of the Emperor's attendant caused ire. In spite of what Warren had told himself about futility of directing his anger at Sukja, he couldn't seem to help himself.

And now the seventeenth morning of his bondage, the damn chamber door chimed yet again. He ignored it. The chime rang again. He stormed to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Waiting and listening, Warren half-expected to hear Sukja in his chambers even though the attendant hadn't entered without invitation since Warren's first days on the ship. But his chambers remained quiet. Good!

Awhile later, Warren ventured out to the observation lounge for a change of scene and to walk off the agitation. Sukja should be 'at work' doing whatever it was he did for the Emperor and, therefore, Warren could likely avoid the alien if he was careful. What Sukja did all day, Warren could only imagine. He hadn't asked and Sukja hadn't shared that information. Whatever it might be, Warren knew it would irritate him if he did know given his current state of mind. It would give him another aspect of this alien life with which find fault and preposterousness.

He paced the length of the large lounge, fuming to himself. To hell with everyone who betrayed him. To hell with Xavier! To hell with the X-men and the Shi'ar! He hoped they all rotted in hell someday for what they did. He hoped that hell included even a taste of what he was going through. Let them suffer what he was forced to endure.

But first, let them rescue him! Dear God, let that be what happened. Warren held to the hope that Xavier was planning his rescue even now in spite of what the Professor had said about no rescue. And again he told himself he only had to hang on until then.

It wasn't long after he returned to his chambers, when his door chimed again. 'Go away!' he yelled at the door in his mind, biting down hard on his food bar. The door chimed again. Warren continued to munch.

"Archangel," a disembodied voice finally said through the comm. "I know you're there. Please let me in."

'Go fuck yourself,' he replied silently, his blood pressure rising.

Sukja considered his options from outside Archangel's chambers. He knew from Ztar that the human was constantly upset. As Ztar put it, "the empathic connection sizzles." Sukja worried that the anger would erupt once again like two days ago, possibly at an even less desirable target – Ztar for instance. A violent explosion in Archangel was something Sukja wanted to avoid. The anger needed to be vented in a controlled manner and the Emperor's attendant was all too willing to be that vent, at least verbally. But he couldn't do that from the other side of Archangel's door.

"Archangel, you're being childish," he goaded, hoping that would get the human's attention.

On the other side of the door, Warren recognized the provocation. 'Yep, that's me – childish. Just like my tantrum two days ago. My right under the circumstances, bastard! I'm still not letting you in here.'

Sukja sighed as no response was forthcoming. He could let himself in, but that set a precedent that his word was not to be trusted. He'd told Archangel in the very beginning that his chambers were his to control, Ztar aside of course. Sukja would not break his word.

"Self-imposed isolation is not the answer. You only hurt yourself. But if that's the game you wish to play, I can wait for as long as it takes."

'Let's see how that settles,' Sukja thought, leaning against the bulkhead across from the door.

'Game? He thinks this is a _game_?! Where's the goddamn mute button?' Warren smoldered, storming over to the comm control. Finding none, he started toward the bathroom for some peace and quiet.

"Childish games and outbursts from someone so intelligent is regretful," Sukja said filling his voice with disappointment. "To think a _warrior_ capable of such behavior…" he let his voice trail off.

Warren stopped in mid stride. A string of expletives burned through his brain.

'That's it – this guy's going down!' he declared to himself despite knowing that Sukja was intentionally egging him on to get Warren to open the door. It no longer mattered.

He charged the door, slammed his hand onto the control panel and was further enraged as the door slid opened quietly. The silent movement mocked his anger.

There stood the attendant, leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed on his chest. The picture of equanimity.

'Perhaps I should rip that calm face off with my bare hands,' Warren thought viciously. It was all he could do not to attack his provoker.

"It's not wise to rile this warrior, alien!" Warren said through slitted eyes. His wings spread as he took a step toward his potential victim.

Sukja was a bit unnerved by the hostility radiating off the human, but he didn't let it show. He had been threatened many times in the past by angry bedmates.

"Understood. However, I'm not really what's riling you," Sukja pointed out, not moving from his spot on along the wall.

Warren eyed the alien. He knew instantly where this was leading and he'd have nothing to do with it. Suppressing the urge for physical violence with effort, he leaned toward Sukja.

"Now who's playing games? Psychological maneuverings won't work on me," Warren replied with a coolness he didn't feel. The alien was going to try defusing his anger. Warren liked the anger – it was less painful. He would not let it go easily.

"No, they won't. I see that." Sukja watched Archangel with concern. Everything about the human screamed barely contained rage. At the same time, he was impressed at just how controlled that anger was. The human had not attacked him as the body language said he was ready to. And Archangel's thinking was keen, not rash or illogical. Another sign of a seasoned warrior – don't let heated emotions mar your judgment; that could get you killed.

But Sukja worried the pent up anger could eventually wear down that control. No matter how controlled Archangel was at the moment, he could still be volatile and unpredictable. That was unacceptable in an Imperial bedmate.

Ztar had shared that Archangel was submissive the previous night, even though the Emperor felt the simmering anger through the empathic connection. Earth was a powerful motivator for Archangel to restrain himself, but as the rampage in his chambers proved, that control can slip. It was Sukja's job to ensure any risk of that was minimized.

"Then this conversation is over!" and Warren turned to re-enter his chambers.

Right behind Archangel, Sukja prevented the door from sliding shut. "I disagree," he said quietly.

Warren turned sharply to the man behind him that blocked the door. He snapped open his wings in a threatening motion and got into Sukja's face, trapping the alien between himself and the doorframe. Sukja didn't flinch, Warren noted with grudging appreciation.

"Do not push me," Warren growled. "I'm capable of more than you may want to know."

Sukja did not move, locking eyes with Archangel. "Anger is a pleasant change, isn't it?"

"_Violence_ could be even more pleasant – at least for me," Warren let a wicked look cross his face. Sukja was still trying to play mind games.

Sukja was unfazed by the implied threat, although he believed Archangel more than capable of inflicting a lot of damage. He banked on the human's will to hold himself in check.

"You and I both know that would get you nowhere in the end. But the anger needs to be dealt with. So what do you want to do?" Sukja challenged.

Warren considered the alien and his words. Sukja wasn't saying anything he didn't already know. Violence would gain him nothing, so Warren chose not to attack the annoying imperial attendant. The risk and potential price were too high. But the anger…that he would hang on to. So much had been taken from him, his anger he would keep, thank you!

"The Accord protects you from me, alien," Warren said in his most lethal voice, "but it does not dictate my state of mind. I will feel what I wish!" With that he pulled in his wings and turned away in disgust, releasing Sukja from the doorway.

Sukja edged more into Archangel's chambers. It did not go unnoticed.

"I did not give you permission to enter," Warren said flatly, blocking Sukja's path.

The wings had drawn close to the human's body. A sign the anger was dissipating? "But you didn't tell me to leave, either. I took that as an invitation."

"You presume much."

"My I enter?"

Warren considered. He was allowing his anger to fade, for now. After all, Sukja was not the focus of his anger – Ztar was. It was Ztar he wanted to destroy, not his puppet. But Sukja was still trying to manipulate his way into Warren's chambers, and that he would not permit.

"No."

Sukja decided to back off. He'd take this small interaction with Archangel as a minor success, hoping his next visit would be more fruitful.

"As you wish," he relinquished.

After Sukja had gone, Warren sat and stared out at the stars from the window seat. The general sense of agitation lingered, but it was dull, as if the brief confrontation with Sukja had released much of the energy.

The attendant was the least of his concerns. Ztar would be after him again tonight, pushing for more. All Warren wanted to do was kill the man, but that wasn't currently an option. And so, Warren had chosen submission and detachment instead of violence while refusing to be manipulated into doing more than the bare minimum to protect Earth.

But what the bare minimum was seemed to change as often as Ztar's moods. Warren thought back over the nights since his captivity. Ztar was unpredictable to say the least, swinging from wanting total submission, to wanting to tussle, to everything in between. But it seemed whichever Warren did, it wasn't what Ztar wanted. Submission led to demands for more participation. When Ztar got the participation he wanted, then he wanted resistance. Yet resistance was put down with mental control. Then as soon as Warren submitted yet again, Ztar's demanded either participation or resistance.

If Warren was going to endure the Emperor, the very least Ztar could do was be clear as to what was required. The vacillation and uncertainty were adding to Warren's already extreme stress level. But if the Emperor was insane or otherwise unstable as Warren was coming to suspect, it would explain a lot. Should Warren be the captive of an insane alien, then his situation may be even more dire than he first thought. Cruel and evil he could deal with – at least that was predictable. But insanity? The idea frightened him. He had dealt with insane minds before and it was never pretty.

Warren got up, his anger rekindled.

Tonight he'd face his tormentor once again, not knowing what Ztar would press him to do. If Warren had to chose, it was the mental control he hated the most. The pain and physical assaults, those he could learn to deal with. But losing control over your very mind that was the ultimate violation. He desperately wanted hold on to his own mind.

"Make that top priority,' Warren told himself. Yet he knew Ztar could take that from his thoughts and use it against him. It was a losing situation from every angle for Warren and that caused a loathing toward Ztar that was almost tangible.

Adding to his torment was the confinement. It was gnawing at him. He meandered around his chambers, looking for a distraction from his own thoughts. The computer terminal beckoned, but he wasn't in the mood. He didn't want to leave his chambers in case Sukja was milling around. So he paced, the walls closing in.

###

For the next five nights, Warren submitted quietly to Ztar in spite of his anger, hoping that Ztar would ease up. He hadn't. If anything, the Emperor became more assertive with his demand, trying to take advantage of Warren's submissiveness. Once again, whatever Warren tried backfired. Kiss me here, nuzzle me there, do that, do this – disgusting!! And when Warren baulked, Ztar use mental control or the threat of control to get what he wanted.

Some nights, Ztar wanted Warren to resist, not just lie there. His actions prodded and pushed and egged Warren on. Ztar had actually said on one occasion, "I want to see some of that fiery spirit." But any show of the fiery spirit Ztar claimed to want only resulted in greater aggression and tightened mental control.

And so submission resulted in Ztar's demands for more participation and more 'spirit.' But yet spirit or resistance lead to more aggression that bordered on punishment and demands for submission. Warren's return to more submissive behavior resulted once again in demands for more fight.

It was a vicious circle and Warren couldn't find the exit. He was beginning to believe there was no exit. Nothing he tried eased the situation. Ztar was like quicksand, always wanting what Warren wasn't doing.

Wasn't it enough that he allowed himself to be sexually assaulted every night? Why did Ztar have to make it some kind of sick game where only he knew the rules? It was intolerable. No more!

Warren paced in his chambers, waiting for Ztar to show. He was angry and wasn't going to let Ztar turn him into a malleable whore no matter the price. To hell with the Accord. To hell with Earth. He was drawing a line in the sand tonight!

###

Ztar extended himself to the human, not telepathically, but empathically. The connection that he had been nurturing burned with anger. Archangel was on the warpath once again. Ztar had felt the anger escalating in the human for the past few days, but Archangel had held it in check. Apparently, that was no longer the case. Was he building to another meltdown like six days ago when Archangel tore his chambers to shreds?

Ztar didn't want to deal with his bedmate's anger, that's why he had Sukja. Let him face the human's ire and Ztar would enjoy his companion once Sukja settled him down.

Ztar reached out telepathically to his attendant requesting his presence. Ztar could have explained everything to Sukja telepathically, but that's not how he and Sukja operated. Ztar long ago forgot exactly why and how that came to be, but it had. It worked for them and that's all that mattered to Ztar.

When Sukja entered Ztar's chambers, the Emperor was already in his nightwear and sitting on the edge of the bed, drink in hand.

"It's Archangel. He is quite upset. In fact, the empathic link may be ready to spontaneously combust!" Ztar had to smile at his own words.

"Not good!" Sukja responded. At least Ztar seemed to be taking it well. But then, he wasn't the one that was going to face the hostile human.

"Archangel needs to know I will punish his world if he refuses me. He has no choice in this matter," Ztar reinforced with Sukja. "But between you and me, I'd enjoy a little roughhousing, Sukja. It appeals to me."

Sukja gathered himself for what he was about to say.

"My Emperor, permission to speak freely."

When Ztar nodded, Sukja continued. "Then why summon me? You can easily control Archangel mentally, physically, neither or both. If you wish to roughhouse, why am I here?"

Sukja was confused for the first time on what Ztar actually wanted from him and from his bedmate.

"I thought about that before calling you. I don't want to start something with Archangel that may get out of hand. If he feels he can resist and fight me without consequence, he will. That is not what I want. I want feist and fire, but tempered with submission."

Sukja sighed quietly. "That is a difficult balancing act, my Emperor. You want him to feel that he can resist, but not too much. In the end, he must know he has to submit."

"That's it exactly!"

Sukja's mind whirled with the ramifications. It was the end of a long day and Sukja didn't want to deal with something so complex and full of potential pitfalls and unexpected outcomes when he was already tired.

Little wonder Archangel was a constant emotional rollercoaster. First Ztar wanted him to simply submit without resistance. But that didn't stop Ztar's aggressive side. And when Archangel did attempt to resist or dissuade Ztar's hand, he was 'punished' by Ztar's own admittance with more pain and aggression. According to Ztar, Archangel had again submitted without protest the past few nights, and again Ztar became more assertive in what he wanted Archangel to do in bed. And now, Ztar was asking that Archangel fight him but only to a point and then submit.

Sukja shook his head – it was difficult keeping up with Ztar's desires. Sukja could only image what Archangel was going through.

"My Emperor, I'm going to say something you may not wish to hear." Sukja paused watching his ruler for any signs that this was a bad idea. Seeing nothing but curiosity, he plunged ahead.

"Archangel is still trying to adjust to his circumstances. He needs time. He needs you to be consistent in your expectations of _his_ behavior and in the predictability in _your_ behavior. I beg you, please don't continue putting him and yourself through ever-changing expectations and demands. He must be very confused about what you want of him. My Emperor, _I'm_ confused as to what you want!"

Ztar sat in stunned silence. Rarely was Sukja so blunt. Anger flared.

Sukja saw the flashes of anger in Ztar's eyes. Had he crossed the line of propriety on behalf of the human? But then the anger seemed to melt away as quickly as it flared.

The Emperor thought back to the past 20-some days. Sukja was absolutely right. Ztar was shifting sands. Nearly every night, he had wanted something different from Archangel. If this pairing was to work, Ztar was the one who had to settle down. If he did, then perhaps Archangel would slowly follow suit.

Ztar breathed in and out in a deep, long sigh.

"As always, you are right, Sukja. I think I want so much from Archangel, that I forget the long-term goal. He needs me to be steady and consistent, doesn't he?"

"Yes, my Emperor. That doesn't mean you can't have some variety in your desires. But limit that variety and within it be predictable. Then he'll know what's expected of him. That's how we'll build a foundation for the long-term. In the future, when he's better adjusted, we'll see what else might be possible."

Sukja had picked up on the semantics in Ztar's statement about Archangel needing him to be steady and consistent. Ztar had not said, '_I_ need to be steady and consistent, don't _I_?' Ztar said "_He_ needs me to be steady and consistent, doesn't _he_." That one, short sentence may just have represented a major step forward in the Emperor's personal growth. Not once in all of Sukja's years of service had Ztar said anything close to that about a bedmate. Couple that with the statement the day before Trapia about making sure Archangel was comfortable, and perhaps it was a sign that the Emperor was changing for the better. Was it possible that Archangel could be the person to finally motivate Emperor to take that next step?

Ztar stood and took his glass to the kitchen having finished his drink. "We still have a problem."

"My Emperor?" Sukja wasn't sure to what Ztar referred.

"There is still a very angry Archangel on the other side of that door," Ztar said nodding to the entry to Archangel's chambers.

"Ah, yes. He's very upset?" Sukja questioned.

"Quite."

"Would you like me to calm him down?" Sukja offered, more than willing to take whatever the human would hurl at him – physically or verbally.

Ztar thought for a moment. "No, Sukja. I think I'll handle things tonight. If he wants to fight with me, I'll allow it. I'll remind him of his obligations, but later after his anger is spent. Perhaps it will be good for him to release that anger at me. After all, I'm the cause of it."

Another first for the Emperor! Sukja had always been the one to assuage anger and rebellion. Only then did Ztar partake in the pleasures of his bedmates. But now Ztar was offering to do that for the sake of his bedmate. This was indeed a good sign!

"That sounds like a very good approach, my Emperor!" he agreed with enthusiasm.

"Sukja, I will get what I want from him tonight, though. One way or the other. I will not be denied," Ztar said with a wicked smile.

'Oh well, two steps forward, one back,' Sukja thought. But progress was progress.

###

Where was Ztar? He couldn't possibility be giving Warren the night off, could he? It was well past when the Emperor usually made his appearance. As illogical as it was, it only further angered Warren that Ztar would be late.

'As if he cares one iota if he keeps me waiting!' Warren was livid. He enjoyed being livid – it was a relief to feel something other than shame, humiliation, and helplessness. There was power in the anger. He was ready for his showdown, but his adversary so far dared to be a no-show. Warren paced, his anger growing as the minutes ticked by.

Suddenly, the door slid open and Ztar stepped inside, the door silently closed behind him. Their eyes locked – Archangel's dancing with anger and Ztar's calm and collected.

Warren didn't wait, he laid into Ztar immediately, rage blocking any thoughts of repercussions.

"I don't give a damn about the Accord or what you do to Earth, I'm not being abused by you any more! It stops now!" Warren approached his tormentor, but stayed well outside of arms reach.

"Apparently you're upset with me, Archangel." Ztar said, putting a questioning look on his face. He noticed that Archangel only came so close and no closer.

"Upset?! You think I'm merely _upset_? Go fuck yourself, Ztar! I'm tired of being your whipping boy. No matter what I do, it's always the same. No more! Punish Earth! Destroy New York City or whatever you think you need to do – I don't give a shit anymore!!"

Rage distorted the perfect face and presented an odd juxtaposition. Ztar watched in fascination as Archangel literally began pacing in a circle. He was indeed beyond angry, but as yet not violent. The empathic connect was now in flames and Ztar actually cringed at the heat. But the feel of the human so worked up also excited Ztar. The emotional maelstrom was intoxicating. Archangel crackled with energy, both physical and mental. Ztar empathically and telepathically drank in that energy.

Ztar edged slowly closer to the pacing human. "I think you _do_ care about Earth. If you didn't, we wouldn't be just talking."

"We're _not_ talking, Ztar. You're listening!" and Archangel paused in his pacing as if to gather himself. "You are a sadistic rapist whose only concern is fulfilling your own sick desires. You're brutal, self-absorbed, and I won't be suffer your abuse any longer. I'm not a toy or a pet. Not a possession or a piece of property. I don't belong to you!!" The words came out laced with molten lava and acid.

Ztar continued to observe from a detached perspective. It was like Archangel was speaking for all Ztar's bedmates from the past as much as for himself. Part of Ztar felt what might have been remorse. 'Sadistic rapist' stung. Perhaps it was true. Yet imperial bedmates were a tradition going back to the very beginnings of civilization on his world. Emperors could by law claim anyone as a companion, willing or otherwise. It was his right and he saw nothing wrong with exercising that right. Perhaps his methods were a bit more aggressive, but certainly not unprecedented.

Archangel was wrong on the other point. He did belong to Ztar. The Accord made him Ztar's legal property. There was no getting around that fact. And Archangel had responsibilities under that legal document that he must fulfill no matter how much he disliked the obligation. Now if he would only accept that.

But at this moment, Ztar understood the human was too angry to accept any of it and he would not waste his breath. Right now, the anger needed to be released and Ztar would allow that. In the end, though, Ztar would get what he wanted tonight.

"Anything else you want to say tonight, Archangel?" Ztar asked calmly.

Warren though he'd blow a gasket at the question. Ztar was so cool and unfazed. Had nothing he said made an impact? God, this alien was beyond intolerable!

"Get out! Get out of my room, bastard! _Now_!!" Warren yelled at the Emperor, his body literally shaking in fury.

Ztar simply stood as Archangel raged.

"You mother-fucking son of a bitch! I said _get out_!"

The room collapsed as his perceptions narrowed to only his adversary. Warren stepped closer to Ztar. He'd take down the Emperor if he had to. Despite Ztar's superior strength, he'd find a way. All the pain he'd endured! All the humiliation and shame! Ztar would pay somehow, someway – Warren vowed it to himself.

"Get – out – of – my – room," Warren warned in a low, menacing voice. He crouched slightly, snapping his wings to attack position. His anger was not to be denied. All the brakes came off – Earth's precarious position faded to the background.

"Archangel, you don't want to do that," Ztar equally warned. Ztar looked at the human with new appreciation. Archangel looked every bit the predictor ready to pounce. Crouched, muscles tensed, wings spread, eyes narrowed with dilated pupils. It was an impressive sight. But he was beginning to grow impatient with the hysterics. He would not be ordered out of a room – any room – and certainly not his bedmate's.

"I most certainly do!" Warren growled. Even if he couldn't win a fight with Ztar, he'd get in a few good licks. And in one strong beat of his wings and spring of his legs, Warren propelled himself into the Emperor with such force that despite Ztar's far greater strength the Turzent to fell backward and they crashed into the kitchen counter.

The air expelled from Ztar's lungs with the impact of Archangel against his chest. The impact with the counter was also hard enough to cause sharp pain across the low back of his tough body. He hadn't realized Archangel was _that_ strong! The next thing he knew, a fist caught the side of his chin and his head was jerked to the opposite side.

Ztar grabbed Archangel by the upper arm and threw him across the chambers. Archangel impacted with a thud against the bathroom wall and slid to the ground. One of the new pieces of artwork clattered to the floor.

Warren jumped up immediately and lunged into the air once again straight toward Ztar. By that time, Ztar had steadied himself and planted his feet firmly in preparation for the next attack. But this time, Ztar employed gentle telepathic interference with Archangel's thought processes.

In the instant before he reached his target, Warren suddenly couldn't remember what he wanted to do. 'What the fuck?' and he was on top Ztar but his fists missed their target in his confusion as Ztar dodged. Ztar's hands quickly locked around Warren's forearms.

'Damn telepathy!' Warren knew immediately what Ztar was doing, but knowing what was happening and being able to do something about it were two different things. But damn it, he was going to try!

With Archangel still semi-airborne in front of him, flapping wings swirling the air violently around them, Ztar held Archangel's arms in a fierce grip. But just as quick, the human brought a knee up hard into Ztar's gut. Ztar had read the move in Archangel's mind but the human's reaction time was so quick that he could do nothing to avoid the impact.

As he kneed Ztar hard, Warren twisted his body to gain a better angle over his opponent and hopefully loosen Ztar's grip. Warren allowed years of training to take over and guide him without thought. Ztar would have nothing to read!

Having momentarily wrested some control over one arm, an elbow to the throat caused the Emperor to cough and jerk, further loosing his grip on Warren. A snap of his arms downward and Warren was free. He allowed himself to drop to the ground in front of Ztar while his legs knocked Ztar's feet out from under him with a slice to the ankles. While Ztar fell sideways one direction, Warren rolled the other. Leaping to his feet before Ztar hit the ground, Warren now had the Emperor where he wanted him.

Ztar was stunned as he hit the floor. This human was half Ztar's strength at best even accounting for Archangel's mutation-enhanced strength, but here Ztar was being felled. Archangel's moves were so lightening fast, Ztar couldn't respond quickly enough even if he could read them. And he was having a hard time reading Archangel – the fighting took no thought. The sign of a seasoned warrior.

Warren knew he had a tiny window of opportunity before Ztar likely took control of his mind and he wanted that time to count. As the Emperor landed with a thud on his side, Warren grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him upright with one fist, slammed him back against the cabinets, and landed a blow to Ztar's face with the other. That was all the time Warren decided he probably had and he'd end the fight now. But damn, that felt so fucking good!!

Warren stood and walked to the other side of his chambers and leaned against the wall crossing his arms to watch Ztar recover. Now that the anger had been vented, Warren was beginning to feel twinges of fear that perhaps Ztar would do something rash against Earth. He steadied his breathing and waited.

Ztar rubbed his jaw as he sat on the floor and watched Archangel turn his back to him and walk away. When Ztar said he liked Archangel's fiery spirit, he hadn't anticipated quite so much! No one had dared do what this human had just done since Ztar became what he was – an augmented mutant. If they tried, they usually did not live.

With Archangel, though, he would follow his attendant's advice, Ztar thought as he rose to his feet, and not react to anger with anger. Ztar would give the human this moment to release the rage if it helped him adjust to the life Ztar envisioned for him. But controlling his own rising anger would be a challenge and Ztar nearly shook from the effort to hold it in check.

Ztar looked over at the human that had just defeated him in the brief fight. The empathic connection was filled with satisfaction, but with an undercurrent of fear. Good! Archangel should have fear for what he did. First the destruction of his chambers and now this! Ztar would tolerate no more outbursts after tonight. But tonight, he would be lenient.

"You're done then?" Ztar inquired, standing and straightening his nightwear.

"Unless you want to go another round," Warren replied inserting confidence into his voice.

"You do realize that I've killed for less than what you just did," Ztar wanted Archangel to clearly understand how tolerant he was about to be.

"I have no doubts." He didn't.

"You also realize that you've violated the Accord that keeps your planet free and unharmed." Ztar also wanted Archangel to remember what was at stake.

"I understand that, too." Warren was a more nervous now. Ztar was too calm. That is sometimes worse than someone lashing out. What was he planning?

Ztar picked up on the rising anxiety in Archangel at the reminder. He would use that to drive home his point.

"Then perhaps _you_ should select the population area that suffers from your outburst," Ztar said as if this were just a matter of course.

Warren hesitated – how should he react? Was Ztar serious? Would he indeed destroy a city full of people for Warren's actions? Or was Ztar simply toying with him? Then Warren felt a crawling sensation in his brain – Ztar was probing him without attempting to hide it.

"Ztar, be reasonable! If you're going to take it out on anyone, it should be me – not a city of innocent people!"

"Since you're hesitant to choose…there is a city I see in your mind that would be appropriate for your transgression. I believe you call it Phoenix. It is hot and fiery, just like you are tonight. Its destruction would be appropriate reparation for attacking your Emperor."

Warren's heart moved to his throat and he swallowed hard. Could Ztar be serious?! Now he was becoming truly fearful.

"You wouldn't _do_ that!" Warren prayed he was right, but was rapidly fearing the worst. Was the Emperor so evil as to do as he was threatening?

"I have destroyed more than a city in the past for crimes far less than yours," Ztar said in a dire tone, staring Archangel in the eyes. "And what you just did is a crime, punishable by death. Or in this case, by surrogate deaths."

'How could I have been so stupid?! God, what was I thinking?!' And why wouldn't Ztar exact punishment – Earth was nothing to him but a tool to ensure Warren's cooperation. Not using the tool would be illogical. This was looking very bad.

Warren moved away from the wall and toward Ztar. "Ztar, don't do anything rash. I didn't mean… I'm sorry!"

"Sorry for attacking me or sorry that others will pay?!" Ztar took a couple steps toward Archangel. He was still controlling his anger, but didn't want Archangel to know that, so he filled the words with force and his face with anger.

Everything about Ztar said he was angry, but holding back. Visions of Phoenix in smoking ruins and bodies everything drove fear deeper into Warren. He had to stop that from happening!

"I'm sorry for attacking you! Don't punish anyone else for my actions – that's not right!"

"But that's the agreement you live under, Archangel. Submit or Earth suffers the consequences. Not you. Earth. We made that very clear to you from the start."

"It won't happen again, Ztar! Please don't do this!" Warren's heart was racing. 'My God, what had I _done_?! If Ztar follows through on this, I couldn't live with it. Stupid, foolish! This is where your anger and selfish outburst got you, Worthington! A whole city of innocent people in jeopardy. Are you happy now?' Warren could hardly draw a breath as his heart pounded and his chest tightened painfully.

Ztar felt he had pushed the point far enough. Archangel's dread was rapidly escalating to panic. He didn't want to completely undo any positives gained from Archangel's release of anger. He made a show of gathering himself and sighing.

"Very well, Archangel. However, my mercy comes at a price," Ztar replied in measured tones.

Relief flooded over Warren. But fear of what that price would be followed quickly at relief's heels.

"I will expect much from you in bed tonight and the next several nights." As Ztar had said to Sukja, he would get what he wanted from Archangel one way or the other.

Warren closed his eyes. Back to that – Ztar's lust and his body. His body was the price for Earth's safety. God, he didn't want this body anymore!

"Do you understand, Archangel?" Ztar softened his voice as he closed the distance between them.

Warren reopened his eyes and Ztar was right in front of him. "Phoenix will not be harmed?"

"No, I will spare your Phoenix."

'Thank you, God!' he prayed quietly. But now Ztar would require much more from him for several nights running and he dreaded what that might be.

Ztar rubbed his chin again where Warren punched him and smiled.

"You have a mean right hook!" he complimented the human, using terminology straight from Archangel's own mind.

Warren eyed the Emperor trying to determine his intentions with that comment, but was uncertain.

"Now we go to bed," Ztar commanded and Warren groaned internally, but obeyed and they removed their clothes.

"Above me, Archangel," the Emperor commanded as he laid down after throwing the bed covers aside.

Warren dutifully straddled Ztar's thighs. The Emperor arousal was already evident.

"You know what to do," Ztar prompted as his hands ran up Warren's thighs and around to the small of his back, stopping there. Warren leaned down to kiss the man he'd just beaten in a fight. His mind screamed to pull away as their lips touched and Warren had to fight very hard not to. Dread of what was to come sent trembles through him despite his efforts to quell them. He unconsciously pulled his wings tight to himself in a protective reaction.

When Ztar opened his mouth to his kiss, Warren did what was expected, twirling their tongues together. After a bit, Warren started to pull away from the kiss.

'Not yet,' the voice in his head commanded.

Warren continued the kiss. Ztar's hand moved slowly up his back to the wing bases, swirling his fingers in and through the feathers to the most sensitive, erogenous spots. More tremors ran though Warren. Again he tried to pull away from the kiss and again Ztar telepathed 'no.' Ztar's reciprocating kiss became more urgent, probing deeper into Warren's mouth, it was nearly suffocating. The hands continued to stimulate the wings Warren still held tight to his body.

'Spread your wings,' came the next command. It was then that Warren's realized how tightly he'd been holding them. When he did as demanded, Ztar finally released him from the kiss. He could breathe again!

'Nuzzle me, but don't make me instruct your every move, Archangel. Pleasure me on your own!'

God, this was too much! Warren's mind went blank as he followed the nuzzle command by kissing Ztar's neck and ear. What was he suppose to do? Making love to a woman, that he knew how to do very well. But a man?! What the hell was he supposed to do? All he really knew of those types of scenarios was from his experience with Ztar.

'You'll figure it out,' Ztar slipped the words to Archangel. He read the repulsion in Archangel and it caused the Emperor pain. If only Archangel wanted him even just a little! To be so loathed by his companion was beginning to bother the Emperor more each encounter. Perhaps it would be best to not be connected to Archangel during sex – to remain oblivious to the odium and just enjoy the physical pleasures. And so Ztar stepped out of Archangel's mind.

Warren decided to mimic what Ztar had done to him in the past, since he couldn't come up with much on his own. He had to keep reminding himself how close he'd come to getting Phoenix blown off the face of the Earth as he caressed, licked, fondled, probed, and gently bit the man he hated more than he thought possible, Apocalypse included. That mutant had done terrible things to him but never raped him or forced him to do this.

Ztar continued to stimulate the wings and when he hit the right spots, he was always rewarded with delightful shivers.

Much to Warren's discomfort, Ztar seemed fixated on his wings tonight. He slowly eased them higher to put them more out of reach.

"No, Archangel," Ztar said when the wings rose. He wanted to revel in that unique feature of his companion tonight.

'Damn!' Warren paused and drew in a breath, and lowered his wings back within easy reach. He had never been keen on anyone caressing his wings. The feathers were too susceptible to damage, for one reason. They were extremely sensitive for another. And that was the case now, the wings were becoming over-stimulated and the discomfort was increasing.

Warren ran his hands down and back up Ztar's chest before brushing his lips across the Emperor's as Ztar had done many times to him.

Ztar had enough of being beneath Archangel. He was the dominant male and he wanted to be one top. It was his nature. He eased Warren down next to him and rolled on top of his companion, being careful not to pin the wings in an awkward position. Once he was straddling Archangel's thighs, he took each wing and pulled it gently out away from Archangel's body to expose as much of the sensual appendages as possible. Then he placed one hand on each wing and moved feathers aside to reach the thin, sensitive membrane beneath. Then he glided his fingers down the shafts of the feathers, enjoying the silky smoothness of feathers running between his fingers.

It was all Warren could do to let Ztar spread his wings and comb them. He knew what would happen and he didn't want to go there. Then just as he predicted, Warren's body began to respond to the stimulation. 'No!' he told himself firmly, but his body wasn't listening. Over and over Ztar ran his hands and fingers over the wings, through the feathers, and Warren steadily became more aroused. This breathing quickened and the trembles increased. 'Stop it, Worthington!' he ordered himself again.

Ztar was pleased with the response building in Archangel. He leaned down for a kiss, never taking his hands off the wings. He continued to stroke, massage, and titillate the feathered appendages. Of all the pleasures Archangel's body offered, it was the wings that fascinated Ztar the most. They enthralled and aroused.

"Your turn, Archangel. You need to participate!" Ztar ordered.

Warren's hands were shaking as he ran them up Ztar's arms, but stopped and gripped the muscular upper arm when Ztar hit a particularly erogenous spot on his left wing.

'God, I don't want this!' Warren cried out in his mind. His wings had reached that point where pleasure and pain were intertwined. He fought the urge to knock Ztar's hands away, yet his arousal escalated against his will and a moan escaped.

"Kiss me," Ztar breathed to his bedmate.

Ztar leaned down to accept a kiss from his companion. He took it over quickly, then left Archangel's mouth, nuzzling his way across the shoulder to the left wing's leading edge. He loved the feel of the feathers on his lips as he kissed down the wing arch. He opened his mouth and brought teeth down around the edge between the back and the wing bend. The reaction was immediate in Archangel – his body arched up slightly and another moan escape.

Zinging sensations shot through him as Ztar bit down. Oh god, what was the alien doing! Ztar was driving Warren crazy with his tantalizations. He wanted to push the mouth and hands away from the wings, but knew he couldn't. No one had ever focused so much on them, nor had he allowed it if they tried, and it was taking him to uncharted territory.

He whirled with the erotic sensations bombarding him. The wings hurt from the roving, probing fingers, but it felt incredibly good in at the same time. He wanted it to stop, but not. Warren felt himself slipping further into a lusty haze.

Ztar dipped into Archangel's mind once again, not to read his thoughts, but to learn exactly what brought the most pleasure to the human. He used that information without mercy on the feathered appendages. He was driving Archangel toward orgasm and he was enjoying the power over the human!

Warren tried to pull the wings in, but Ztar prevented it. The pain/pleasure was escalating – part of him cried stop, but another said more. Now when Ztar dug in his fingers, painful bruising blended with sensual bliss. His whole body was igniting and Warren was now quickly losing the battle to stop himself from falling into sexual ecstasy.

Ztar liked the turn of events. He had planned to focus on his own needs, but this was too good not to bring to conclusion. The Emperor would bring Archangel to orgasm first and then take his Archangel immediately after. As Archangel writhed beneath him, his own arousal strengthened and his blood ran hot and fast.

He plunged into Archangel's mouth, then pulled back, nipping and biting his way down the neck and chest, all the while caressing the most sensitive and pleasurable points between feathers. Ztar delighted as the wings quivered beneath his hands. By the gods he loved this attribute of the human!

Like a switch had been thrown, searing trails suddenly began to follow the fingers as Ztar combed through the wings. The threshold from pleasure to pain had been crossed. It was quickly becoming too much.

"S-stop," Warren's voice was thick and raspy. He weakly tried to move Ztar's hand away from the right wing without success. Pain had now completely eclipsed pleasure. "P please!" Even as he said it, Warren wondered why he bothered. Ztar wouldn't back off – never had in the past at his pleas.

Ztar read the change with disappointment. Perhaps it would not be possible to accomplish what he had wanted, at least not this time. So he backed off and refocused on his own gratification. Bringing Archangel so close to climax had nearly moved him to orgasm and he was ready to take the human, and he adjusted their positions to do just that. He knew it meant the usual painful entry for Archangel, but Ztar's need was great by then and he thrust in and out of his companion knowing the pain would pass and Archangel would heal from any harm.

Warren was grateful and surprised when Ztar's hands finally left his wings. They burned and throbbed. But now Ztar was about to enter him and more pain was to come. He braced himself as he felt the Emperor's large presence push inside. Pain radiated out from the entry point and from inside Warren as Ztar thrust hard and deep. Warren gripped the sheets in tight fists and bit his lip not to cry out. The pain was like a knife blade with each thrust and withdrawal. Eyes squeezed shut tight, he let the Turzent Emperor ride him for what seemed like an eternity until he finally came inside Warren. And then it was over and the Emperor laid down on top of him in exhaustion. With no choice but to lie beneath Ztar, Warren waited for the pain to pass.

Once again, Warren had endured another rape and Earth was safe. As Ztar lay with his cheek resting on Warren's chest, the tears came silently. Warren would not sob with the Emperor lying there and he wiped telltale droplets away quickly.

Ztar raised up on one elbow and looked into Archangel's eyes. He saw the moisture and felt the despair through the empathic connection. He caressed the human's face, gazing at its perfection of form. Running his fingers through the golden hair now damp with sweat, an intense longing, an almost aching need burned deep within him once again for this unique being. He could spend hours, days with Archangel in his arms and not get enough.

"My Archangel," was all he could say and left the human's bed for his own.

Ztar continued to demand that Archangel be a more active participant in the sex for the next few nights. He knew it was difficult for the human and that he hated it, but Archangel did as commanded. Ztar felt he had won on all points from their short fight and he was pleased.

Then when he considered the reparations were paid in full, he allowed Archangel to fall back into his more passive role in bed, relieving a little of the stress the human felt during their nights together. Ztar believed it was best that way, at least for now. And Ztar vowed to follow Sukja's other advice – be steady and consistent in his expectations of Archangel. And so Ztar would limit his desires to what he found most satisfying.

###

Ztar was furious at the communication from General Gtar-Cro. What by the gods was the Commonwealth up to? The unrest and bombings of imperial installation in the Mygra System were now indisputably linked to the Commonwealth. What game were they playing? The Mygra System had not joined the Empire willingly, but its people had rarely caused any trouble until a few months ago. Now it appeared that the uprising was orchestrated to serve some as yet unknown purpose.

Mygra wasn't strategically important or unusually resource rich. Its two inhabited planets should not hold any particular interest for the Commonwealth. Yet the Commonwealth was there meddling and stirring some of its people to rebellion. The intelligence reports answered the who, but not the why. More information was needed and Ztar charged Gtar-Cro with that task.

###

While Ztar wrestled with too much goings on, Warren wrestled with too little. He was bored. Bored, lonely, and claustrophobic. Language lessons only went so far. He couldn't focus only on that for hours a day, every day. And while Sukja did provide him some company, it was the company of the enemy, not someone with whom he could freely converse. The loss of everyone he knew was beginning to weigh heavily.

Confinement was also taking a heavy toll. It'd been how many days since Trapia – 19, 20? Couldn't they stop for even a few hours? The need for flight was desperate now and it gnawed at him constantly. His dreams now were of flying, indicating his subconscious was trying to provide him what reality was not. Warren hated to ask anything of Ztar, but he may need to soon or he'd go crazy.

But it was the boredom that picked away at his sanity the most in the past several days. With little to occupy his mind, he tended to focus on his plight and that only led to despair. There had to be something to occupy his days, but what? What had the previous occupants of his chambers done to fight the tedium? He decided to tackle that issue first, flight time later.

Querying the computer, he found that the Mi-Lartui offered a few ways for her crew to pass their off-time. A lounge area provided light food, drinks, and games tables. He learned there was a workout room located on deck 3. Another area the computer mentioned was called the Vartis court. Warren asked for an explanation of the term and found that the game resembled a complex form of racquetball. None of these appealed to Warren. He didn't feel like mingling with crew members, so that automatically eliminated most areas of the ship. He was back to square one.

So as much as he didn't care to, he may have to ask for ideas. Perhaps Officer de'Letnoir would have some suggestions. Warren needed to get more zante and a few others items from stores anyway, so he headed down to de'Letnoir's domain.

"Greetings, Archangel! I was wondering if I'd be seeing you today. Been what, two days since you've restocked your shelves?" the officer teased with a warm smile.

"Hello to you, too," Warren said parting with one of his now rare smiles. He would not make the effort for anyone else, but de'Letnoir had been nothing but friendly and helpful. "The zante is running low as are a few other basics, but I came more looking for information. Ideas, to be precise."

The officer stood up and walked up to the front counter where Warren stood. "What can I help with?" The crew member seemed genuinely interested in being of assistance.

"To be honest, I'm bored and looking for ideas on now to keep busy."

de'Letnoir smirked mischievously. "Boredom is something we simply can't have on the Emperor's personal cruiser. We'd get a bad reputation! For starters there's the lounge. After day shift, the place really picks up. It's where most of us gather after our shift."

The conversation was suddenly awkward for Warren. "I was thinking more about daytime activities. Things I can do in my quarters or from deck two."

de'Letnoir's smile suddenly dissolved and he looked more intently at Warren. The officer looked like he wanted to say something, but then rethought and decided not to. "I understand. You've been instructed on how to use the computer?"

Warren nodded. "I figured it out, but you can only sit in front of the computer so long."

"Indeed." de'Letnoir paused in contemplation. "Deck two is limited. Haven't been up there myself, but I know there's nothing as far as recreational opportunities. I keep coming back to the computer as your only option from that deck."

Again, de'Letnoir looked like he wanted to say or ask more, but was hesitant. Likely it had to do with his restriction to deck two, Warren guessed. That self-imposed limitation Warren did not see himself lifting anytime soon. He grew uncomfortable even thinking about mingling with the crew, let alone to actually do so. As cowardly as it may be, Warren wasn't going to put himself through any additional stress that wasn't absolutely necessary.

The procurement officer sighed. "Other than what you can do on the computer, I'm afraid I've failed you." He actually looked saddened. "But you can always come down here and keep me company. I play a mean game of sonji-mir." The officer continued at Warren's raised eyebrows. "It's a table game. I've got a portable version in the back. I could teach you!" de'Letnoir looked excited at that idea.

Warren contemplated the invitation. It would be a good distraction and he did like de'Letnoir. 'Perhaps I should allow myself this one connection – just until I'm rescued,' he considered. "Is it a good idea? You're on duty…"

"My ultimate duty is to the Emperor and what he desires. I don't think my superior officer could find fault in my helping his companion avoid boredom. It would please Emperor Ztar, I'm sure of it. As long as I don't neglect my duties."

There was that word again – companion. The word had taken on a new, pejorative meaning to Warren that was humiliating each time he heard it. But Officer de'Letnoir said it without any intent to insult or demean, as if it were just another title, like ensign. Maybe Warren's role was nothing of consequence or unusual to Ztar's crew, but it wasn't their life that had been ripped away. They weren't the ones forced into the Emperor's bed.

Warren swallowed back his thoughts and rising emotions. He didn't want de'Letnoir to know how much what he'd said had hurt.

"I'd like to learn then."

"Alright! Today, though, got a full day ahead of me. Let's plan on tomorrow for your first sonji-mir lesson. Say 10.0?"

"I'll be here," Warren agreed. At last, something to look forward to.

"In the meantime, you can read about the game on the computer and perhaps learn the basic rules," the officer suggested and Warren nodded. He'd do exactly that.

Zante and other goodies in hand, Warren made his way back to his chambers feeling better and better about his decision. He needed this and was glad he spoke to de'Letnoir. Yet another tool in is arsenal to survive until his friends came for him.

Putting away his food supplies, Warren suddenly realized he couldn't quite remember how many days had passed since he was taken from Earth. Was it 28, 29, 30? He could check easy enough, but really what did it matter? However long it was, it felt like an eternity.

Checking in on himself, Warren also recognized that the anger that lead him to rip his chambers apart and punch out Ztar had eased. It was still there, but no longer white hot. 'Burned itself out?' he wondered. He had liked the anger, but now it felt like too much effort. Where had it gotten him?

'Time to get off wild rollercoaster of emotions?' he asked himself. Warren didn't know. Even making a decision to step off the emotional thrill ride, didn't mean he could actually do it. What he felt, he felt. Suppression doesn't stop the emotions, only pushes them aside.

The only goal was to survive somewhat intact until rescue came. But with each passing day, the ship likely traveled farther and farther from Earth, making rescue more difficult. 'Don't give up!' he told himself. 'The X-men will find a way – they always do.'

Yet it was becoming harder each day to hold to that belief.

###

The fortieth day of his captivity found Warren watching the star streaks from the imperial observation lounge. Warren's days remained dull and long. As his grasp of the Turzent language grew, he no longer spent hours a day on lessons. Playing sonji-mir with Officer de'Letnoir was another way to idle away an hour or two, but that still left many hours unfilled. The days passed slowly. It was very possible that what Ztar's nightly attentions failed to do, boredom would – drive Warren crazy. The lack of mental stimulation added to the confinement was becoming physically painful.

Sitting on the window bench, knees tucked under him, facing the stars, he let the emptiness of space seep into him. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine flying through space, around the stars and planets, the universe stretching endlessly before him. Riding the solar winds in his mind, he rushed past moons and asteroids and comets in silent flight. His wings unconsciously spread wider in response to imagined currents.

He opened his eyes and stared out at the star streaks, placing his hand on the window. If only he _could_ fly through the stars. The aching need for flight was growing stronger every day, and imagination only went so far. Nearly a month now without so much as a few strong wing beats, and desperate need had taken hold. He was ready to scream. His self-imposed isolation on Deck 2 didn't help – so closed in! Warren needed to get into the air; it was not an option.

No, he needed _so_ much more than that. He needed _freedom_. Freedom from all the memories of the past – God, how long? – four, five weeks?! From the long hours each night with Ztar…the dispassionate handling of him by Sukja. Freedom from everything he had yet to endure. Freedom from the crushing shame.

Resting his forehead against the window, he allowed himself slip into despair. It was the quiet times when the price he was paying was too much for a burden forced upon him by others who looked at him as a bargaining chip or a prize to be won. A pretty body to be bartered away. Who cared about one mutant…one human. A planet was saved at such a small price. Sweet deal!

Sweet deal for everyone else – hell for him.

Tears came once again against his will. They infuriated him! What good did they do? Nothing was changed by them. They didn't wash away the pain. Meaningless! They didn't help him cope. He wiped at them in disgust, but they continued to flow.

What did help him cope was detachment. It was a particularly odd sensation when Warren detached while Ztar did with his body as he pleased. Like observing from the outside, but not wholly. Ztar allowed it, as long as Warren remained responsive under his touch – he needed to stay connected enough for that. The Emperor's mental monitoring wouldn't let Warren fall into complete detachment during sex. Disassociation did not serve Ztar's purpose.

But detachment was submissive and Warren was angry at himself for using it. Yet it seemed the least painful alternative, physically and mentally. What he really wanted to do, what every fiber of his being wanted to do, was fight back and kill his tormentor. But he had fought once and Ztar threatened to destroy the city of Phoenix. He wanted so desperately to bring the nightmare to an end. But Earth…

So he was back to detachment. Perhaps it was the best option, maybe his only option, that would help him hold on to a shred of sanity. His breath caught and he felt the tears coming again.

'Calm yourself!' he ordered.

Warren was mastering how to retreat in his mind whenever needed, to a tranquil place away from a world filled with pain. When living was intolerable, that escape was his refuge. Warren focused on his breathing, slowing it, steadying it before reaching down into his mind to that calmness. He successfully halted the tears and shoved the pain-filled mental ramblings aside. Through necessity, Warren was becoming very skilled at burying the worst of the feelings and memories. Avoidance and distraction worked on what was left.

Rising from the window bench, he decided he'd swallow what was left of his pride and ask Ztar if they could take another side trip. He needed some flight time – his other link to sanity.

As soon as he returned to his chambers, he checked the bathroom. Damn it, Dorraj had slipped in again. The bath was spotless. Warren knew the housekeeper watched him and it was a thorn in his side.

###

Sukja was headed back to his chambers when he caught sight of Archangel in the observation room through its open door. Sukja came to a halt. The human sat facing out and was very still. What was going through his mind? Sukja had felt the last several days were not good days for the human. A general sense of sadness emanated from him that Sukja could feel even without being a telepath.

As Sukja watched quietly, Archangel's wings stretched outward a bit as if catching the wind. A few moments later, he saw the hand on the window and Archangel's head come to rest against the clear barrier. He suspected what Archangel was thinking and it tore at Sukja's heart.

This being of flight did not belong on a star ship. He belonged in the open sky. Sukja realized this would be the biggest hurdle in keeping Archangel intact emotionally. Perhaps if they could fill that need in Archangel, everything else would be less difficult for the human. The Mi-Lartui likely needed to stop more often than either he or Ztar had originally thought. He would talk again with Ztar about the situation Sukja decided as he continued down the hall.

###

Later that day, Warren asked where they were headed. According to Sukja, the ship was bound for one of the outer systems. A voluntary addition to the Empire a few years back that Ztar felt required a personal visit.

"Normally, this isn't something Ztar does," Sukja explained. "He has representatives for this sort of feel-good visit. But Ztar is intrigued about something, though he hasn't said what that is. And so we're off to the edge of imperial space!"

Warren observed that Sukja didn't seem to agree with his Emperor's decision, but he didn't care enough to push the issue. In retrospect, he wished he had because Ztar had seemed distracted of late.

Then Warren asked about a side trip. Sukja promised he'd take the request to the Emperor, this time, but also told Warren that he needed to do likewise – it wasn't Sukja's job. Future requests would need to come from Warren alone.

###

Ztar knew something was up in the Raisil System, he just didn't know what it was. Not only had military intelligence recently found evidence of Commonwealth ties to some in the Raisil government, but there was the matter of the advancement in FTL propulsion that the Raisilian scientists were perfecting – thereason Ztar had acquired this system a few years ago when the research was in its infancy, but showed great promise.

Yes, a personal visit was in order. Nothing like some subtle telepathic probing to learn the truth! Very few outside his inner circle knew the true extent of his abilities in that area. Even if the Raisilian's attempted to shield their people or keep those with sensitive information away from Ztar, he would find a way.

One tactic was to bring certain individuals aboard the Mi-Lartui. While the ship's psyche dampeners would block any possible Raisilian telepaths, the dampeners were designed not to block Ztar's telepathic signature. He was free to probe without interference.

This should prove an enlightening visit indeed!

###

Ztar looked down at his Archangel. Another fulfilling night with the heavenly being. Even after 40-some days, he still couldn't believe he possessed something so magnificent. Wondrous beauty, determined spirit, durable body, keen intelligent – all in a single package. Ztar had never been more fulfilled in bed – all his fantasies could be realized with this one.

He had induced sleep in the human once the sex was over to make him oblivious to pain while his body performed its healing magic. Ztar had not been gentle. The tensions concerning the Raisilian System and other imperial issues had built up and spilled over into the bedchamber. 'But I didn't lose control,' Ztar congratulated himself. He hadn't lost control of himself since Trapia.

Archangel had been surprisingly assertive. He had begun to worry about the despair Archangel seemed to be falling into, but the show of assertiveness bordering on defiance alleviated some of Ztar's concerns. In hindsight, it impressed and pleased the Emperor that Archangel still had fight in him; though at the time, he had felt himself grow angry. Most bedmates would have been quite submission by this time, if they had survived this long, allowing Ztar to do with them as he pleased without resistance. But Archangel had a spirit that wouldn't be beaten down – it was one of things that Ztar found so appealing about him.

This night, Archangel's approach had been slightly different Ztar noted. Not so much resistance, but an attempt to distract and deflect Ztar from what Archangel was obviously finding most uncomfortable. However, after several unsuccessful attempts to redirect Ztar's more aggressive moves, Archangel had spoken up between clenched teeth.

"Stop it," Archangel had said in a voice laced with frustration and pain, pushing at Ztar's arms when he had once again clutched the human's wings.

"I will do as I please!" Ztar had answered with heavy breaths, looking down into the blue eyes that also reflected the pain he was inflicting on his bedmate. He wanted Archangel roughly and did not want to be distracted. Rough sex was one of the limited varieties of encounters Ztar had decided upon after Sukja said he needed to be more predictable.

"Just…not so much like _this_!" Archangel implored, wrapping his hand around the Emperor's upper arm to push it away from the wing.

"Let go of me, Archangel," Ztar warned in an ominous voice. He backed it up with a mental jab. He had not been in the mood to be refused.

Archangel jerked and released the Emperor's arm. "Bullies are all the same – you're at your finest when the victim can't fight back!" Archangel nearly spat at Ztar, his eyes suddenly blazing.

'Bullies…' Ztar pulled the meaning from Archangel's mind. 'That I am, Archangel. This _bully_ you will endure for the sake of your planet. Now let me do what I desire without protest,' Ztar commanded telepathically, and he once again explored the delicate wings with his hands. He loved their feel, their scent; the tremors his touch of them brought to Archangel's body.

"Damn it, Ztar, back off! You're hurting me and I'm tired of it!" Archangel had knocked Ztar's hand away from his body with force.

Ztar's irritation level rapidly rose. Not only had Archangel struck him, but he was disrupting Ztar's enjoyment as he was not pleased. "You will do as I wish. You have no rights here, no power from which to negotiate terms of treatment. I own you – your body, your mind, your very existence. Tired of it or not, you will do as I command," he knew the words were cutting, but he hoped it would end the rebellion quickly.

"No," Archangel had rebutted in a near whisper. "You can't own me – it's not legal…or moral!"

Ztar looked inquisitively at the human. "It most assuredly is legal as the Accord attests and it is also moral. Owning you is my right as Emperor. A right that is nearly as old as my people. I chose you and you are mine. Your sole purpose is to offer yourself to me in any manner I desire. You already know the price of defiance."

Ztar stared into Archangel's face as he closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and seemed to physically shrink at Ztar's summation. The empathic connection filled with anguish.

Archangel then reopened his eyes for one final declaration. "It's still wrong – I don't care how you try to justify it."

Ztar was equally firm in his belief. He followed the tradition of the emperors before him; there was nothing immoral in what he was doing. The human's moral perspective was different, Ztar granted him that, but Archangel's beliefs were meaningless here.

"You're not on Earth anymore, Archangel. You're part of my Empire now and will live by our laws and our morality. Your ideas of right and wrong need to adjust accordingly," Ztar said with a sigh. Why was he having to explain himself, especially to a bedmate? Not only was Ztar not in the mood to expound to Archangel his legal status, but this was something Sukja should have dealt with long before this. "Enough talk. Submit as required by the Accord."

Archangel gave up. The empathic connect echoed the human's defeat.

Ztar was relieved when Archangel quit arguing. He wanted Archangel to simply submit and endure, no talking, no resistance, no arguments – that was his expectation of Archangel for rough sex. In return, Ztar had told himself he would do everything he could to avoid losing control. And so when Ztar found himself on the verge of losing all control, he dipped into that peaceful place in Archangel's mind just enough to take the edge off. His restraint had an unexpected benefit. Ztar had found he liked the sensation of being on the _verge_ – it was dangerous and exciting. He would continue to use the technique, he concluded.

Ztar continued to gaze at the sleeping human in contemplation. Earlier in the evening, Archangel had asked for another flying opportunity, but Ztar hadn't answered at the time. Now, though, having satisfied his desire, he felt generous. Immediately after the Raisil visit, they would go directly to the nearest Earth-like planet, and he'd watch his beautiful possession enjoy its transient freedom.

Then Ztar gently kissed his sleeping companion and returned to his own chambers.

###

When Warren woke, it was still night-time on the Mi-Lartui if the lighting levels hadn't been overridden. All the physical pain and injury from Ztar's visit had long passed, but the emotional pain was raw. His attempt to distract and deflect Ztar away from brutality had not worked. So far nothing worked! Not resistance, deflection, or distraction. Early on, he'd learned the alien's desire was inflamed with struggles and cries of pain. These mistakes he would try not to repeat.

Then he'd tried the direct approach and protested Ztar's treatment of him and challenged the Emperor's morals. That, too, failed. Why had he wasted his breath? Ztar's twisted version of right and wrong would not change. It served him well and justified everything he was doing to Warren. Once it was clear that distraction and challenge both failed, Warren had no choice to submit.

Last night, Ztar was aggressive and the bruising was intense when Ztar didn't check his strength. Warren's body healed quickly, but that did not stop with the pain. Bruises quickly covered his body as Ztar sated his desires. He had tried hard to suppress any sound, but wasn't always successful. Any vocalizations just seemed to encourage more of the same. Lying quiet and still when someone is brutalizing your body is nearly impossible, but he vowed to try harder in the future if it minimized the aggression. And when Ztar entered him, it was always without preparation and the pain was piercing. It was the worst part and he dreaded it every night.

But there was one positive change, if you could call it that. Warren saw a more consistent pattern to Ztar's bedtime demands. Of late, there was aggressive Ztar and gentler Ztar; gentler being relative of course. He was learning quickly that aggressive Ztar did not tolerate resistance or distraction. He simply wanted Warren to submit and let him do what he wanted. Little was required of Warren during those nights – he could almost just lie there and Ztar wouldn't complain. That was good, because Warren could detach and Ztar didn't object.

On the other hand, gentler Ztar wanted Warren to participate more, but nothing like the participation after Warren punched out Ztar and the Emperor demanded reparation. Those nights, Ztar held himself in check more and restrained his strength, though never completely. Things were more leisurely and focused on sensuality, if you could ever call a rape sensual. At times, Ztar even attempted to create some pleasurable sensations in Warren. But he did expect Warren to be more actively involved. Detachment was harder then, but still possible. Warren knew he could learn to go on autopilot to get through those evenings.

At least Ztar was more predictable and less chaotic in what he wanted of Warren. Predictability didn't make his situation less painful or difficult, but at least Warren knew what was expected of him. That alone lessened the stress.

'Speaking of stress,' Warren looked down at the bed. He had lost a couple more contour feathers over night. He didn't think they had pulled out during sex being quite certain he would have felt that unique sensation. While he wasn't due for a molt for several months, intense stress could trigger it prematurely.

'God, if I have to face that, too, right now I _am_ going to go off the deep end!'

###

Before reaching the Raisil System, Ztar, Commander Polzjen, and several others worked out the invitation list for the diplomatic reception to be held on the Mi-Lartui. Among the planned guests were two individuals with possible ties to the Commonwealth according to military intelligence. For these guests, attendance would not be optional – his diplomats would ensure that.

The reception would be held in the observation lounge on the imperial deck. Sukja was charged with all the logistics for the reception within the room – food, beverage, décor, room layout, etc. It kept him busy.

Warren knew that a diplomatic event was in the works and pressed Sukja for details during the brief times he saw the attendant. Not that Warren really cared what all the hubbub was about, but it was something to distract him from his troubles.

Despite his full schedule, Sukja continued to have breakfast with the human every other day. For one, just to keep tabs on his charge and second, he enjoyed the man's company. Archangel was intelligent, curious (almost maddening so at times), and he liked many of the same breakfast foods as Sukja and was always willing to try something new.

"You said a while back that something about the Raisil System had piqued Ztar's interest. Ever find out what?" Warren queried between bites of zante, one of his favorites.

"The Emperor holds much information to himself," Sukja offered. He didn't share with Archangel that he knew military intelligence was involved in the reception more than usual; therefore, the interest likely had to do with imperial security.

"You say this system joined the Empire willingly?" Warren knew from his research and questioning of Sukja that certain freedoms were gained by submitting to the Empire without a fight. But many freedoms were also lost, such as self-rule. Likely for most planets, the Empire was just too big to fight off, so they just gave in to the inevitable.

"That is correct, as is the case with many of our systems. It is better to join than to fight. We offer those that enter voluntarily freedoms that otherwise would not be granted. As long as they support the Empire and abide by our rules, those freedoms continue. Ztar is not unreasonable. But if you cross him and his empire, beware!"

With that Sukja stood, indicating the questions and the meal were over.

"One more thing, Archangel. Ztar would like you to attend the reception."

Warren took a second to replay what he'd heard because he wasn't sure he had understood correctly.

"Say that one more time…"

"The Emperor requires your presence at the Raisilian reception this evening, beginning at 12.0. I will have clothes sent up. I will meet with you shortly before the reception to brief you as to your duties. Be dressed and ready no later than 11.5." Then Sukja left a speechless Archangel.

Sukja knew that Archangel would be surprised and then upset at the announcement. He had intentionally said nothing until the day of the reception. Given too much time to think, Archangel may have reacted in ways that Sukja did not want. Just one day to worry limited the potential damages.

Ztar was clear to Sukja about why he wanted Archangel there. The Raisilians were physically very much like Turzents. Certain external features and internal differences were present, but nothing dramatic. Raisilians had many of the same sexual attraction preferences as the Emperor's species as well. Ztar knew Archangel would make a perfect distraction, whether his guests that evening were opposite gender or same gender attracted. When minds are distracted, they are easier prey. Archangel's only duty was to simply be his beautiful, sensual self.

Warren attempted to divert his thinking from the reception by going through some Turzent language lessons, but found it impossible to concentrate. The mere thought of attending the reception made him queasy. Under normal circumstances back home, this would be a cake walk. But these were far from normal circumstances. He was the Emperor's whore and felt everyone would know it.

What could Ztar be thinking?? To what end was Warren to attend? A pretty embellishment for the evening? Or something else.

The day was interminable.

Warren jumped at the door chime. The outfit had arrived. Warren laid it out on the window seat. Not fancy, a tailored top with short sleeves that came to a point just above the elbows. The pants were a simple slack that obviously would also fit close to the body. Most of the outfit was in a soft tan, but the front of the top had a blue triangle insert, widest side running from shoulder to shoulder, and the point ending at his waist. The blue also ran past the shoulders and down the front of half of the sleeves.

'Hate it!' Warren thought in disgust.

###

Sukja had spent some time designing Archangel's attire for the reception. What Archangel likely won't notice was the blue was the exact match to his eyes and selected with great care by Sukja. It would also be stunning in contrast to the white wings. The triangle would emphasize the human's lean body. Coincidently, on Raisil, the inverted triangle carried several symbolic connotations, including one in particular that involved sexuality. Sukja was pleased with himself on that one. Amazing what a little cultural research will reveal!

Warren dutifully did what he could to make himself presentable for the reception. He looked at himself in the mirror. A little over 40 days with the Turzent and he looked like hell. His hair needed to be cut for one. To him, his face seemed drawn and tired.

Spreading his wings, he looked at the damage. The feathers were a mess, splits everywhere and some that were broken. He'd have to do some general care soon or it could get to the point where flight would be hampered, assuming the ship would stop again so he _could_ fly. A pang of need hit him hard with the thought.

'You need to ask,' he reminded himself. 'Maybe then we'll stop. But it does no good to stop if you don't take care of the feathers that allow you to fly!' So before the reception, Warren would do some preening for his own sake.

Precisely at 11.5, Sukja arrived. The human was breathtaking in his reception attire – just as Sukja had hoped. The blue of his eyes was radiant. The wings looked even more intensely white against the crystalline blue of the shirt. The fit of the clothes was impeccable, emphasizing the slenderness of the human's body, without being too tight. Best to leave some things to the imagination – it's sexier that way. Sukja was very happy knowing his Emperor would be. Down to business.

But Warren spoke first. "I don't think I can do this!"

Sukja was unaffected. "That's why I'm here. I am going to help you know what to do. Any reservations you have about attending need to be set aside. You have a job to do tonight for your Emperor. Failure to do as his commands is not an option." Sukja hated to be harsh, but there must be no misunderstanding about what was expected of Archangel.

Archangel did not respond. He simply sat down heavily on the window seat frowning.

"The purpose of your attendance is distraction. You are to engage the Raisilian dignitaries in social conversation regarding their culture or other non-substantive topics. No sensitive subjects like politics. You can ask all the questions you wish within those parameters. That should come easy to you." Sukja smiled slightly. "And you will pass no judgment on their customs or opinions. You will engage in conversation with whoever approaches to speak with you. You will not initiate conversation, as that is not a right of your position."

Warren cringed internally. The last remark stung.

"You will respond graciously and acceptingly of any overtures by the Raisilians. This includes any physical contact."

At that, Archangel's eyes grew wide. Sukja quickly added, "Don't be alarmed, Ztar will not tolerate anything unseemly by the Raisilians."

Warren wasn't convinced.

"When Ztar commands you to do something, you will obey without pause and without indicating verbally or nonverbally that he has directed your actions. Put simply," Sukja concluded, "you are to ingratiate yourself with the Raisilians. Do you understand what is expected of you?"

"Yep. I'm suppose to flirt." Warren said icily.

Sukja's left eyebrow raised. "That sums it up nicely. Now, let me tell you about our guests."

###

The reception had already been underway for an hour when Sukja and Warren entered the observation lounge. As they planned, Sukja went off one direction while Warren headed straight for Ztar. The more steps Warren took into the lounge, the quieter the room became until it was near silent when he stopped at Ztar's side.

'See, my Archangel, how all eyes are on you? You fill them with desire by just walking across the room.' Ztar telepathically commented without taking his attention off the Raisilian he was conversing with.

Ztar's comment brought color to Warren's face. He looked down and swallowed hard, wanting to slide through the floor. Why would Ztar say that? Was he purposefully trying to make this even more difficult?

The Emperor was happy with the affect Archangel's embarrassment had on the Raisilians. They often preferred shy beauty, according to the species psychological profile Ztar had reviewed prior to the reception. A quick mental sweep of the room also indicated that several of the dignitaries were more than a little intrigued with Archangel. Two were even aroused. So far, so good.

Warren recognized the two Raisilians standing with Ztar from the images Sukja showed him just prior to reception. The male was Chuon Sae-Re, Raisil's First Liaison to the Empire. Sunda Vou-Lo was the female and served as Second Liaison.

Chuon Sae-Re had stopped speaking when Warren approached the threesome. Now he worked to wrap up the conversation with Ztar. "As I was stating, Emperor, my world supports the Empire's desire to continue its expansion. We feel, as you do, that this only strengthens our position within the galaxy. But enough of policy, who is our newest guest?"

Ztar smiled. "Liaison Sae-Re, this is Archangel from the Earth System. He has just recently joined my staff."

'Interesting way of putting it…' Warren thought bitterly.

"Archangel, I am honored." Sae-Re held out his hand, palm up.

Warren did as Ztar mentally prompted and placed his palm on top of Sae-Re's, held it there until Sae-Re pulled away. The Raisilian form of a handshake? The greeting was repeated with Vou-Lo. She lingered her hand on Warren's much longer than Sae-Re.

Ztar was pleased when he saw Vou-Lo was having a hard time tearing her eyes away from the Archangel.

With greetings exchanged, Vou-Lo turned to the Emperor.

"Emperor, our apologies! Chuon and I have cornered you into talking policy and business for the past hour at your flawlessly planned _social_ reception. May I suggest a change in topic to lighten the mood?" Vou-Lo offered with a large smile. "Perhaps Archangel would be kind enough as to tell us about his homeworld. I am interested to know more about this Earth System."

'Occupy her, Archangel, but discuss their own world.'

"Earth is a simple planet, not much to talk about. But Raisil – your world _is_ interesting. Perhaps you could tell me about the ancient custom of Nost-Ru Lai I was reading about. I understand it goes back to the very beginnings of your culture?" Warren redirected.

'Oh, Sukja is good!' the Emperor thought. 'He prepared Archangel well. That should keep Vou-Lo's mind fully engaged.'

Nost-Ru Lai was a custom as old as the Raisilian people. An elaborate ritualistic celebration that the Raisilians proudly held every year that had its roots in fertility god worship.

'I wonder, though, if Sukja actually explained what Nost-Ru Lai _is_ to Archangel!' Ztar pondered, amused.

"Then let me tell you about our most revered of celebrations!" With that Vou-Lu took Archangel by the arm and led him away from Ztar and Sae-Re.

Ztar gave Vou-Lu and Archangel a couple minutes to become deeply engrossed in their discussion while he continued to entertain the First Liaison.

Meanwhile, Ztar kept a light touch on all minds in the room. A wild blend of emotions swirled in the lounge – curiosity, boredom, irritation, nervousness, keen interest, to name a few. But what Ztar sought out were the emotions connected with fear, specifically fear of discovery.

After giving Archangel a couple minutes to fully engage the liaison, Ztar turned part of his mind away from Sae-Re and began a probe of Vou-Lu. As skilled a telepath as Ztar was, sustained probes can be perceived by some, especially when their mind is relatively quiet. But distract someone properly and Ztar could perform his work without detection.

While Ztar worked, Sae-Re went on about the possibilities of further developing resources in the Raisilian territory, with imperial financial assistance, of course. Ztar was very skilled at splitting his mind in two. A small part kept tabs on the First Liaison and he injected the minimum into that conversation. The majority of his consciousness was several feet across the room with Vou-Lu.

Down through the surface clutter. Past her fascination with her new conversation partner and what she'd like to do with him in bed, through thoughts of maneuvering the reception to her best advantage, deeper still beyond the concerns of the day, the week. He searched for the telltale feelings of intense stress and fear as they usually led him to points of interest.

Then just as First Liaison Sae-Re asked about the Emperor's thoughts on his proposal, Ztar found something of interest in the second liaison. He mentally called to his attendant. Sukja stepped up to the First Liaison and inserted himself into the conversation, allowing Ztar the opportunity to slip away unimpeded. Freed from Sae-Re, Ztar delved deeper into Vou-Lu's mind.

When Ztar had finished the probe, he relayed to Archangel that it was time to move on to their next target. Joining Archangel and Vou-Lu in the corner of the lounge, Ztar was able, with some effort, to extricate Archangel from the Second Liaison.

Archangel looked very relieved at the rescue.

"She's a cougar!" he informed Ztar, none too happy.

Ztar wasn't familiar with the reference, but the images coming from Archangel gave him a pretty good idea. He almost laughed out loud.

Next they homed in on Raisil's security chief. While the Empire provided interplanetary and interstellar security, for those worlds that joined voluntarily, planet security was a joint function. Jmong Noi-Gi was the Raisil head of planet security. Everything of consequence from a Raisil security standpoint came through his office.

Ztar and Archangel approached the small group that had gathered around Noi-Gi, near the beverage bar. It was apparent immediately that this little group of Raisilians enjoyed their drink.

"My Emperor!" Noi-Gi greeted. "Perhaps something to quench your thirst?" he gestured toward Ztar's staffed bar.

"It is enough for me to see our good friends of Raisil enjoying themselves," Ztar said smoothly. "Let me introduce you to the newest member of my staff, Archangel."

The remainder of the introductions went quickly.

"And where is your homeworld, Archangel?" Noi-Gi said moving closer.

Ztar picked up on some very naughty thoughts coming from Noi-Gi. Apparently, he played on both sides of the fence and Archangel was decidedly to his liking. This was working very well.

And so it continued late into the night. Finally, Ztar, Sukja, and Archangel stood together in the lounge, as the last dignitaries were ushered away. The Mi-Lartui crew would see the guests to their shuttle for the short trip back to Raisil.

Sukja spoke first. "The reception appears to have been well received."

"Indeed," Ztar added. "It was a success on _all_ fronts." Sukja and Warren both knew what the Emperor was implying.

Warren remained silent. All he wanted was to sleep. It had been a grueling evening of deflecting questions, redirecting conversations, asking all the right questions, feigning interest. Not to mention enduring the roving hands of a certain inebriated security official.

"I am retiring for the night, my Emperor. Good night," and Sukja was out the exit.

Ztar turned to Archangel, slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him close. "You were perfect this evening. You did exactly as required and I was able to accomplish what I needed to do undetected. I continue to be amazed by you." Ztar paused, looking squarely at Archangel. "You are stunning. I knew the Raisilian's wouldn't be able to keep their eyes off you."

"One couldn't keep his hands off, either!" Warren interjected sharply.

"Ah, yes. Noi-Gi! He has quite a reputation in that area, especially after some free drinks!" Ztar laughed.

Warren was taken aback by the laugh. He had not heard Ztar laugh before this. Not that he had cared one way or the other. Warren's image of Ztar just didn't include laughter.

"I do, when I have reason," Ztar said in response to Archangel's thoughts. Ztar slowly ran his hand through Archangel's golden hair, down his back, and across a wing. The expected shiver ran through the human. Ztar released Archangel gently.

"It's been a long day." With that, Ztar left Archangel standing in the room.

Warren was surprised as he thought Ztar was going to insist on spending the rest of the night with him. With great relief, Warren walked down the hall to his chambers alone.

###

Ztar was concerned. He found the evidence he sought regarding connections with the Commonwealth. This confirmed military intelligence reports linking some high-ranking Raisil officials to the Commonwealth, so it was no surprise. Not unheard of and could be dealt with. No, what concerned Ztar was the motive. It wasn't so much that the Raisilians had a problem with the Empire. It was more about what the Raisilians suspected about the Commonwealth. And those suspicions were causing them to make contingency plans.

Apparently, some top level officials believed the Commonwealth may make a pre emptive strike against the Empire. Some Raisilians feared the Empire, or at least their part of it, would fall if war broke out, and they wanted to hedge their bets. Thus, the overtures to that regime.

Of grave concern to the Emperor was Raisil's development of what promised to be a significant improvement to FTL propulsion, which if successful, would mean faster ships that consumed less energy. That would be a tremendous bargaining chip for the Raisilians and could buy many alliances in the Commonwealth hierarchy.

In the minds of the reception guests, Ztar found no evidence that any FTL research had yet been given to the local Commonwealth spies, at least not that the dignitaries knew about. But that could change at any time.

Ztar began laying out the Turzent equivalent of chess pieces in his mind. All unusual Commonwealth activity over the past year. Their recent movements near the Zramynian System. Other rumblings about increased military spending, the directions Commonwealth expansion had taken of late, changes in the mood of their umbrella government, reports that their military was raising cautionary flags about the growing strength of the Turzent Empire, and so on.

Then he began to ply the chess pieces. Most moves resulted in nothing but the usual Commonwealth/Empire power dance. Yet others yielded far more foreboding consequences. Many possible scenarios could be played out given the evidence.

But most worrisome was the prospect of losing the FTL advancement to the Commonwealth. That possibility was simply unacceptable. Couple that with Raisilian suspicions that the Commonwealth may be plotting a coup and the future was suddenly much more uncertain.

Yes, Ztar was very concerned.

Following the Raisil reception, Ztar issued several directives to military intelligence and the security force on the planet. Among those orders included a focus by MI on obtaining evidence either supporting or dispelling the notion of the Commonwealth preparing for a first strike. His military presence on Raisil was to tighten security around the FTL development team and facility even further without tipping off the Raisilians. Additional resources were delegated to closer surveillance of key Commonwealth officials, both civilian and military. With those and other pieces in place, all Ztar could do was await the reports.

###

A glance out the window told Warren they were no longer in orbit around Raisil.

"Where to next?" he asked the room, rising out of his window seat turned bed. He would always refuse to sleep by himself in the bed where Ztar did as he pleased. Looking down, he spied another dropped feather.

Today was not a 'breakfast with Sukja' morning, so he lazily eased into the day. It was early morning. Given the long day yesterday, Warren wouldn't have been too perturbed at sleeping in, but that didn't happen.

Stretching his wings and arms, a pang of claustrophobia hit him. He desperately needed to catch some air. The room was getting too small and his wings almost ached with the need for flight. Warren had physiology on his side when it came to the actual requirement for exercise – he didn't need to. He could thank his feral side for that. Unlike humans, most animals don't loose much muscle tone and strength from lack of use or regular exercise. So no matter how long Ztar kept him cooped up on the Mi-Lartui, Warren would remain fit and toned. But his body wanted exercise and the tug grew stronger every day.

'God, I _hate_ being cooped up! It's almost worse than…' No, _that_ was worse.

Sharply, he halted that line of thought and focused on his morning routine – grooming, breakfast, and going through an advanced language lesson. Warren was quite proud of his progress. The tutorial agreed with him, too. Actually, it was probably programmed to tell everyone they're doing well, but sometimes a little self-deception is okay. The tutorial also informed him that when he was ready, the translators embedded in his ears could be temporarily turned off using a remote available from the ship's communication staff. Interesting.

Getting bored, Warren contemplated leaving Deck 2 and exploring the other areas open to his security clearance. Thinking it through and remembering how it felt on the tour with Sukja, he decided against that. 'Still not ready for that," he told himself gently, and that was okay.

It was nearly mid day when his door chimed. Expecting Sukja, he was quite surprised to see Ztar. Why hadn't he used the private entrance?

"I hope you're well rested after last night," Ztar said as he walked into Archangel's chambers.

"Yes," Warren answered simply, but not entirely truthfully.

"Good! Then you'll be up for an afternoon excursion. In a few minutes, we will be in orbit around a'Etyrna. It's a planet in the next system over from Raisil and is primarily a recreational world. We will spend the afternoon on an island. This is your reward for last night's performance."

Warren had mixed feelings. The last time the end of the outing didn't go so well.

Sensing Archangel's hesitation, Ztar was direct. "I will not repeat what nearly happened after Trapia."

Ztar glanced out the windows. The ship was coming into orbit around the planet. "The shuttle is prepped and waiting. I will return shortly. Be ready." And he exited through the front door.

Warren wasn't sure about Ztar's upcoming behavior, but he intentionally didn't let that dampen his excitement about the outing. Ztar would not take that from him! He was going to be airborne soon and that's all that mattered right now.

As Ztar walked down the corridor, he touched Archangel's mind. The feelings of relief and anticipation were intense. Ztar was coming to understand that Archangel's need for flight was as much physical as it was psychological. That need flowed through every fiber of Archangel's being.

Sukja was right; they'd need to stop more often for the sake of Archangel's mental health. Ztar would instruct Mi-Lartui's captain accordingly.

###

To say that the island called Eriale was beautiful failed it utterly. It was breathtaking. Warren was mesmerized as the shuttle circled the island once before landing for his benefit. A single, perfect cone-shaped volcano rose up in its center, complete with a snowcapped peak. The ocean in which it rested was emerald green. Golden-red sand beaches ringing the island shimmered in the sunlight. Flora of every conceivable size and color blanketed the island's interior.

Warren saw no buildings or other structures to mar the pristine landscape. 'Wonder who owns this?' his business side pondered. 'Talk about a perfect get-away for the extremely wealthy.'

"This island is one of my private retreats," Ztar spoke aloud, answering Warren's question. "It was a gift to me from the Raisil people when they entered into the Empire."

"Pays to be you!" Warren quipped, looking at Ztar.

The shuttle settled on the landing pad and the pilots opened the door. No need for armed guards here to fend off predators, Warren guessed.

Ztar and Warren stood up.

"Same rules as before. Now go!" was all Ztar said. Warren had no trouble obeying that command.

Warren knew immediately that gravity was somewhat stronger than Earth's – a slight more tug as he sprang against it to get airborne. The air was also denser, like that a sultry summer day, causing him to work harder to get lift. But he'd take those small nuisances. He was in the air once again!!

Warren stretched out his senses, expanding his awareness mentally and physically as he rose higher. He wanted to savor every sensation of his flight and freedom. He needed this so desperately! Like someone dying from thirst, he was now getting sweet, precious water. His soul drank it in ravenously. Joy washed over him like pounding waves. He trembled from the rapture.

Far below, Ztar let Archangel's emotions flow through him. And as before, he was awed by their power. He sat quietly as the feelings swept through his mind, nearly causing Ztar to tremble.

Once the initial exhilaration of freedom passed, Warren warmed up with a set of aerial routines before heading toward the volcano. He rode an updraft toward its peak and remained aloft using nothing but air currents. Warren's whole body was a sensor to the shifts in air flow, direction, and pattern. He allowed his mind to become completely absorbed in the experience. Small changes in wing angle and attitude to catch the right amount of lift were often all that it took. Other times he had to search more for the right wind pattern to hold him aloft without beating his wings. It was just him and the currents – floating, rising, falling, rising again. Suddenly, he caught a strong updraft and rose sharply. That familiar stomach-left-behind feeling thrilled him. He loved the pressure of the rising thermal against the undersides of his wings – it was almost sensual.

When he started to get chilled, it was time to go lower. Exploring the island interior from the air, he saw how very different the vegetation was from Earth's. A botanist's dream, Eriale had an astounding assortment of plants. His incredible eyesight allowed him to see every detail from the sky, right down the patterns in the leaves and flower pedals. And flowers were everywhere! He wondered if that were true all year long, or if this was springtime on the island. The scents from the foliage and flowers were almost overpowering.

Leaving the interior, he landed on one of the golden-red beaches. Reaching down, Warren scooped up a handful of sand and rubbed some between his fingers. It was a super-fine, not as coarse as most Earth beach sands. As such, it felt firmer under foot. But the sound of the waves against the beach was the same as Earth. Closing his eyes for a moment, Warren pretended he was on a Caribbean island. He remembered the taste of a tall island drink, the laughter of friends, and rollicking on the beach. Good times. Good memories. He shuddered and opened his eyes.

'That's all lost to me now,' he reminded himself, trying to harden his heart against the ache. It didn't work. The tears of loss and abandonment came again and they angered Warren.

'One of these days, the crying's gotta stop!' he ordered himself. 'Self pity and wallowing gains you nothing.'

He wiped his eyes and attempted to regain control. But today he didn't have the will or strength. He knelt in the sand and wept for some time.

On the other side of the island, Ztar picked up on Archangel's emotional state. How long should he allow the human to grieve? He wasn't certain. Ztar would monitor Archangel and intercede only if necessary. He understood the human's need to release the emotions. Then for the first time in a very long time, Ztar felt the twinge of guilt.

As promised, Ztar allowed Warren the entire afternoon to fly and roam where he may. When Ztar summoned him, Warren returned. Ztar did not make him fly into his arms like on Trapia, for which he was grateful.

The return trip to the Mi-Lartui was made in comfortable silence, both men caught up in their own thoughts.

And when Ztar visited Warren that night, he was surprisingly gentle. He remained in Warren's bed far longer afterward than typical, stroking and caressing Warren's body.

It made Warren uncomfortable that Ztar lingered, but the worst was over so he didn't complain.

Warren was exhausted after the previous late evening at the reception, rising early, the long outing that day with its emotional release, and Ztar's attentions that night. In spite of himself, Warren fell asleep in Ztar's arms.

Archangel finally drifted to sleep on his own in Ztar's embrace – sleep not induced by the telepath. That pleased Ztar more than he cared to admit. He looked down at the face that in sleep was once again perfect – free of frowns from pain and suppressed anger. Something tightened in Ztar's chest.

Ztar wasn't much for introspect, but he had noticed a change in himself these past few weeks. He thought about that on shuttle ride back from a'Etyrna. Looking down at the sleeping human, Ztar wondered how it was that this one being out of all the bedmates he'd had, willing and unwilling, was managing to thaw his heart.

Everything Ztar had been through in his life from a childhood with a brutish father, harsh days with the military clawing his way up the ladder, the betrayal of his superiors leading to him to the augmentation program and its aftermath, and his vengeful rise to ultimate victory and Emperorship had destroyed whatever compassion and gentleness he may have once possessed. He at least he thought it had.

The Emperor's reputation for going through bedmates went beyond his ship's crew and inner circle. Part of him used to proud of that, but mostly he was angry and frustrated. Male or female, it didn't matter – he enjoyed both equally. But bedmates that were physically tough enough to withstand Ztar when he was unrestrained weren't typically sensual. The sensual ones didn't last physically. Many lacked the keen intellect that Ztar preferred. And if their bodies survived him, their minds and spirits did not. Only a rare few were with him more than a few weeks.

In looking back, Ztar saw that with each new bedmate that couldn't satisfy, he became angrier. The next one took the brunt of that anger as he pushed the limits to see if finally he'd found someone with whom he didn't have to hold back; someone strong enough both physically and mentally that could fulfill all his needs and desires no matter how intense. Again and again he was disappointed. And so it continued for years while the anger and frustration grew.

Until this human. And not just a human, but a mutant like himself. Someone uniquely different from everyone around him.

His Archangel was perfect in every sense that Ztar could name. None the weaknesses of his past bedmates were present in Archangel. He was sensual beyond sensual. A delicately structured body that could withstand whatever Ztar inflicted on it. He could be savage – unrestrained – and Archangel would quickly heal. He could invade and control his mind, and Archangel proved psychologically tough and resilient. The human was intelligent and quick witted. He was adaptable. Archangel was self-sacrificing and would do what was necessary to safeguard his homeworld, giving Ztar a compliant, although decidedly unhappy, bedmate.

Yes, Archangel was perfect. Ztar thanked whatever gods there were for the day he saw this magnificent creature. But this creature was changing him. And he wasn't sure he was happy about it. Would a changed Ztar remain the Emperor needed to control his Empire? He didn't know.

###

"Got you!" de'Letnoir said with a little too much glee. Warren had quickly lost his fourth sonji-mir game that morning. None of the matches so far had lasted longer than a few minutes, even with de'Letnoir coaching Warren's moves.

"Beating novices seems to please you!" Warren chided with a smirk.

"Unashamedly so," de'Letnoir laughed. "The thrill of victory is something I'll take even if comes from someone who's just learning. I'm not a humble winner, you'll find out."

"I had already figured that out the first time you whopped me in about three moves," Warren said easing back from the game table set up in the office area at the back of stores. Sonji-mir was a crazy blend of Chess, Go, and Yinsh. Incredibly complex, Warren had read and reread the rules and decided the only way to begin to understand the game was to start playing.

"At least this time you laid out the board correctly," the officer jibed with a wide grin.

"I'll take my successes wherever I can at this point! I'm thinking this game takes a lifetime to master."

"You're right. Though some say you never really master it."

Warren nodded, staring at the board where de'Letnoir had secured victory in six moves. "I'm not ready to give up yet."

"Good! Then another lesson tomorrow?" de'Letnoir looked hopeful. He seemed to be enjoying teaching the game as much as having someone to best.

"I guess I'll come back for more punishment," Warren said with an exaggerated sigh.

"Did you try playing against the computer? Set it to novice level so you'll actually have a chance to play more than five moves," the crewmember added mischievously. "The teaching mode will even explain your move options and the strategy behind them."

"Good suggestion, but I think I spend way too much time in front of the computer already," Warren said crossing his arms and leaning back. It was a sad commentary of this dull live he was being forced to live.

"You did say you wanted something to do from your chambers. Unfortunately, that doesn't leave many options, friend." Then de'Letnoir rested his forearms on the game table and looked directly into Warren's eyes. "Why don't you want to venture out? Why do you isolate yourself? Or is it on our Emperor's orders?"

'Shit,' Warren thought. 'How do I want to handle this?' He gave himself time to think before speaking.

"I'm having a hard time adjusting is all and I feel more comfortable staying on deck two. Maybe once I feel more…settled…" and he let the thought hang.

The officer studied Warren's face for a bit, then slowly smiled. "I hope that's all it is. Some of us were thinking maybe we all smelled bad to you or something equally offensive," he chuckled.

The remark took Warren by surprise. Never once that he thought how his self-imposed isolation might look to the Mi-Lartui crew. Were they used to Ztar's previous companions (God, how he hated that word) milling around the ship and socializing? Was he the only one that had chosen to stay apart?

"My apologies! No, nothing like that. I just…need more time I guess."

de'Letnoir leaned back in his chair, looking more serious than Warren had seen him before. "You are welcome anywhere on this ship, Archangel. You are a member of the Emperor's royal court and anyone on this ship would be honored to make your acquaintance." Then de'Letnoir smiled broadly. "I am!"

Warren was taken aback. Royal court? Honored? This was a very different perspective than Warren's. Was de'Letnoir being truthful or kind? No way of knowing. Even if true, it changed nothing of how Warren felt about himself or his situation.

"Thanks, that's good to know."

"When you feel like venturing beyond deck two and stores, let me know and I'll venture out with you…if you'd like."

"Thanks for the offer," Warren replied, but not sure when or if he'd take the officer up on his invitation. To be honest with himself, even if the Mi-Lartui crew was very offended by his standoffishness, he wasn't sure he cared one bit.

###

Ztar's day had not gone well and he was angry. No, make that furious. Troubles again with the Mygra System, only now it seemed the Commonwealth may be playing a role. The latest MI report found a possible connection between the Mygra resistance and Commonwealth spies. After reading the report, Ztar had comlinked directly with General Gtar-Cro. They discussed the various implications of that intelligence along with the progress made regarding the Raisil situation. Too many possible infiltrations and subversive activities happening in a relatively short period of time. Ztar was beginning to seethe about continued Commonwealth subterfuge. Something was definitely amiss with that adversary and Ztar wanted confirmation of what it was and he wanted it now.

Not only were the Mygra System and the Commonwealth growing agitations, but the small Etabre Collective he wanted to add to his Empire was baulking. At first, Etabre appeared to be an easy acquisition with resources of immediate value. They hadn't the military might to fight off the Empire for long and they knew it. Their representatives had presented themselves as agreeable entrants into Turzent space, and thus the Collective planets would enjoy the freedoms of those who chose not to fight, but joined willingly. All had seemed to go according to plan. Now Planetary Relations informed him that the Etabres were dragging their feet with all manners of special requests and objections to standard conditions of entry. None of this was unexpected, negotiations are negotiations. But it never failed to raise Ztar's ire when a system he could crush in a matter of days felt bold enough to make special demands. For now, he'd let his shrewd planetary relations staff and legal counselors work out the issues. Still, the situation irritated him. If in the end he had to go in with military force, beware!

Staff reports were filled with numerous other smaller issues that were being dealt with by his subordinates, yet each new issue was an irritant that morning. Then to top everything off nicely, he also learned at his morning staff meeting that Mi-Lartui seemed to have developed FTL drive "abnormalities" as his chief engineer phrased it. Unless it could be corrected by the ship's crew, they would need to go a repair station. He had the best engineering crew the Empire offered and he expected his ship to perform accordingly. Therefore, Ztar was never happy when the Mi-Lartui had to dock for repairs.

Pacing back and forth in his chambers, he realized he was feeling more and more manipulated by Commonwealth scheming. The one thing Ztar hated most was feeling controlled or plied and it was dredging up old emotions and wounds. It was likely the root of much of the anger he felt boiling just below the surface. However, knowing that and dispelling the anger were two different things.

He needed Archangel to escape for awhile. A release in the bedchamber would steady him. It was still afternoon, but that didn't matter. Archangel should be in his chambers as usual. A fire ignited in his groin with the mere thought of an afternoon interlude with his companion, something he had rarely allowed himself through the years. Discipline caused him to focus on imperial matters during the days, and partake of pleasures after hours. But today, he'd allowed himself this special indulgence. Ztar placed his palm on the bio-sig panel and strode into the adjoining quarters. Archangel was not there.

'Where?' Reaching out telepathically he found the human in stores chatting with the procurement officer. Of all the times for Archangel to be socializing, Ztar thought illogically, as if Archangel should have known Ztar wanted to visit early. Ztar called himself on the irrational notion. Still, he was perturbed regardless of how illogical it was.

Rather than summoning Archangel telepathically, Ztar would wait. It would give him time to anticipate the pleasures to come. How long could Archangel be, after all?

###

"Perhaps we should begin scheduled deliveries to your chambers," the procurement officer ribbed. "You could place a standing order – we'll deliver every couple days!" Officer de'Letnoir laughed as Warren pulled several items from the storage units.

Warren couldn't help but laugh, too. It felt so similar to the friendly teasing he endured at the X-mansion about his constant need for food. As much as he had protested the joking, he enjoyed the camaraderie it created.

"Then I wouldn't get to interrupt your naptime, de'Letnoir!" Warren continued the repartee.

"Oh, there's no napping down here. Not when I've got to stay on top of my rapidly dwindling stocks!" and the office let loose one of his boisterous laughs.

Warren just shook his head as he bagged his booty. The procurement officer rested his elbows on the service counter and eyed Warren.

"Archangel, we were wondering…I was wondering, you've been on board for about what, 45-50 days now? Perhaps it's time for you to venture out. We never see you around the ship, besides coming here. Previous companions usually roamed the ship and took advantage of its facilities. There's no reason to isolate yourself – it can't be good for you. And don't tell me coming down here for an hour or two for a game of sonji-mir is enough!" de'Letnoir voice was filled with concern.

Warren stopped in mid-motion. Hearing the word companion was cutting and humiliating, but he swallowed down his emotions as he knew de'Letnoir had no idea now much it affected him.

"I'm having a small gathering after shift tomorrow. Xliar from engineering, Podranitz-Myr from security, and a couple others. Just a few drinks and some light food. Would you be interested? I'd be honored if you'd come. So would the others."

Warren blinked at the officer. He was quite surprised by the offer. Playing a board game with the officer to past the long hours was one thing, but to be invited to join him and his friends…that was completely unexpected.

Warren wasn't sure what his express had revealed, but suddenly de'Letnoir appeared worried. "If I broke protocol or some other rule, please forgive me!"

Warren found his voice. "No. At least I don't think so," He actually had no idea. Putting that aside, Warren wasn't sure he wanted to form any additional attachments. Emotionally, he didn't think he was up for that. Yet he was so lonely. The days were becoming increasingly long and empty. But would Ztar allow it, even if Warren decided he'd like to join the officer and his friends? Did Warren care one way or the other?

"Can I get back to you?" he offered.

"Of course! I know you need to check with the Emperor's schedule."

"Yes," he replied faintly. 'It's so hard to arrange your social calendar when you need to be available to be raped every night,' he thought with bitterness. But he managed a smile for the officer who was becoming a friend. The invitation had obvious been a bit of a risk for de'Letnoir and Warren appreciated the thoughtfulness.

"Thank you for the invite, I appreciate it."

"Just so there's plenty of incentive to join us, know that we'll be enjoying a glass or two of Dison," de'Letnoir said with a sly grin.

Warren couldn't help but smile back. It made sense that the procurement officer had noticed an increase in Dison consumption on the Imperial deck once Warren had discovered his fondness of that particular liquor.

"Very tempting," Warren replied. He packed the rest of the food stuffs into his parcel.

"Until tomorrow morning when I beat you once again at sonji-mir!" de'Letnoir said grinning.

###

Waiting was not one of Ztar's strengths. Minutes passed and still no Archangel. He began to pace in Archangel's chambers, thoughts bouncing back and forth between impatient conjectures regarding what was taking his companion so long and irritated condemnation of Commonwealth attempts to undermine his empire. All the while, his anger built steadily.

'By the gods, where is Archangel?!' he demanded. Reaching his mind out once again, he found Archangel still in stores. He would tolerate no more delays.

'Archangel, to your chambers now!' he lashed out telepathically with no forewarnings.

In stores, the procurement officer stopped in mid sentence as Archangel's hand went to his head and he winced.

"Are you not well?" the Officer de'Letnoir asked alarmed, his eyes wide.

"The Emperor – he wants me upstairs," Warren answered after catching his breath, Ztar's voice still ringing in his head. The telepathic bolt left his head smarting and his mind filled with that familiar dread. Ztar's mental tone was angry and angry usually meant only one thing for Warren. Things had been more tolerable lately and he'd hoped the worst was behind him. Maybe that hope was premature.

Officer de'Letnoir picked up and handed Archangel his parcel. "I hope all is well…" he offered in apparent sympathy.

'What a surreal life I'm leading,' Warren thought walking down the corridor toward the elevator with heavy steps. All thoughts of de'Letnoir's invitation were quickly pushed aside. Here he was obeying the summons to what likely would be another rape by the obviously angry alien Emperor, and he was doing so of his own volition! God, how could his life be more fucked up – literally and figuratively? And he didn't have a goddamn choice. Every night, he tried whatever seemed to work to avoid Ztar's worst. Some attempts were more successful than others. Just need to hang on until his friends came for him, he kept telling himself. But it had been 50 days and his belief in that rescue was wavering. Dear God, if he had to live like this for much longer…

'Don't think that way,' he scolded himself, returning to thoughts of the immediately situation. No matter how furious the Emperor sounded moments ago, Warren couldn't bring himself to hurry to minimize that fury. With each step, the anxiety grew. He contemplated how he would handle the situation. Yet in the past, Warren's attempts to mitigate Ztar's anger usually backfired, so 'handling the situation' may be an overly optimistic hope. If he couldn't calm the Emperor, things could be bad. But it was only afternoon and perhaps Ztar didn't want what Warren thought. No way to know until he got to his chambers.

Now that Archangel was on his way, Ztar was only somewhat less irritated. Mental monitoring showed the human was not moving with haste. Empathically, Ztar could feel the apprehension, but that was no excuse for a leisurely stroll to Deck 2. When he commanded, the Emperor expected people to hustle. The fact that Archangel was taking his time was intolerable!

Ztar forced himself to sit in one of Archangel's chairs to await his companion's arrival, his anger boiling. He had been more than accommodating to Archangel's needs. Already stopping by planets to allow the human his time in the air. Plus, Ztar had told Sukja to do whatever was necessary to ensure Archangel was comfortable. And Ztar had been gentle in bed several times, setting aside his own needs to make those encounters less difficult for the human. It was more than Ztar had done for any bedmate in recent memory. It was more than any bedmate should expect. Didn't that deserve greater respect than leisurely meandering back to his chambers?! Perhaps a lesson in respect was in order.

Warren entered his chambers hesitantly. The Emperor was seated stiffly in the lounge area. One look at Ztar and Warren knew the alien was indeed in a very foul mood. Warren put his parcel down in the kitchen before speaking.

"You called?" he asked, trying to keep things light hoping that would help.

Ztar rose slowly and righted himself to his full seven-foot stature. The human sounded flippant.

"You kept me waiting," the Emperor said in an ominous tone.

"I came straight here, Ztar. I didn't know you were in a hurry," Warren said calmly in contrast to how he felt inside. Ztar did not look at all pleased at his reply.

"I summoned you, and you intentionally took your time," the second accusation was delivered with an even more threatening tone.

Warren stayed in the kitchen as far from Ztar as he could physically be in his chambers. 'This does not look good, Warren ol' boy!' he was starting to sweat. 'What in God's name does he want of me?'

"Ztar, I came immediately – as soon as you told me. What more do you want?" Warren questioned. He hadn't run to his chambers, true. Is that what Ztar had expected? Ridiculous!

'How _dare_ this human think he can take his time when I command. I will not tolerate disrespect!' Ztar thought to himself, the anger no longer below the surface. It had risen. Ztar took a step closer. "I demand more respect than a slow, leisurely pace when summoned, Archangel. Perhaps you forget your place."

Warren saw a change from barely controlled anger to what looked now to be erupting fury. His heart was racing at the thought of Ztar losing control again. This alien mutant was capable of inflicting a lot of pain in a lot of ways.

'How to defuse this? Same as Trapia?' he thought desperately.

'Do not even contemplate that trick,' Ztar burned the thought into Archangel's mind.

Warren held his head in his hands. The words felt like tendrils of liquid fire in his brain.

"I won't! Ztar, I'm sorry! But you're angry about something. What did I _do_?!" Warren pleaded hoping the direct approach would work.

Ztar started moving in on Archangel. "What is wrong is the lack of respect that you've seemed to have developed. When I command, you obey. No excuses. No _delays_!"

Warren wanted to run, but he was trapped in the back corner of his chambers. Ztar's long legs closed the gap quickly between them. The Emperor's face clearly reflected his wraith.

"Ztar, I came when you called! You're being irrational!" Warren said backing into the corner as the Emperor reached him. He wanted to strike out, but knew it would only make matters far worse.

Ztar was outraged. This bedmate was now being insolent! Grabbing the human's arm he yanked him out of the kitchen and into the main living area. With a powerful shove, Archangel was on the floor on his backside.

'What the hell is wrong with Ztar?! He's lost it!' Panic was gripping Warren. 'This is going to be bad!' Was Ztar going to beat him? A brutal rape? What? This was insanity – he'd done nothing to create that much anger. With Ztar looming over him, Warren remained on the floor. Getting up would be a huge mistake he knew without a shadow of doubt.

"Ztar, you're losing control," Warren said as softly and gently as he could. "I can help…" He was quickly running out of options to calm the alien.

Ztar suddenly knelt down next to Warren, fire dancing in his brown eyes. He'd had enough. "Perhaps you should have been more prompt when I summoned you."

With a hand to Warren's chest, Ztar pushed him hard backward onto the floor. The pain that shot through Warren's back and wings took his breathe away. 'Shit!' He grabbed the arm and hand holding him to the floor to dislodge it without success.

"We have sex here!" and Ztar flatten Archangel's legs out with a swipe to the ankles and quickly swung himself over the human, never removing the hand from Archangel's chest.

Warren was in his worst possible position – on his back on a hard surface. The thin rug did nothing to cushion the floor. Pain radiated across his back and from wing base to wing tip. 'God, that hurts!'

"The bed would be more comfortable. Please! This is not good!" he tried to sound reasonable.

'I will have you where I choose, human!" Was there no end to the human's impertinence?

As Ztar leaned down on top of Warren's chest the pain increased dramatically and he hissed through clenched teeth.

'Bastard! Mother fucking son of a bitch!' he swore as the pain shot through his wings.

"This works just fine," Ztar said into Archangel's ear before bringing his mouth down hard on the human's. The teeth were clenched tight and Ztar wanted in.

'Open to me now!' he commanded telepathically.

The pain was escalating in the wing joints and Warren would have a hard time unclenching his teeth even if he had wanted to. Suddenly, he felt a steel vise around his mind – Ztar! Warren's mouth opened without his control and Ztar kissed him savagely, his full upper body weight coming down on Warren. The pain grew intense and his back and wings were screaming, but Warren could do nothing under Ztar's tight mental hold. He would heal, he knew, but Ztar was being cruel and Warren had done nothing to warrant it.

'Ztar, please! Why are you doing this?! It hurts! Please let me up!' he projected out to the Emperor, but Ztar did not relent. The kissing and roving hands continued unabated.

'I don't deserve this. I-I came when you called. What did I do _wrong_? What?!' Even in his mind, the words cracked with emotion and tears of pain filled his eyes. Why was this happening??

Ztar filled his mouth with Archangel's, ignoring his projected questions. He would take his companion here on the floor, protests or no protests. Ztar knew Archangel was in pain, but pain is a powerful teacher. This human would learn respect. He would do as Ztar commanded.

Warren wanted to fight, kick, punch whatever it took to get the heavy alien off, but he had learned it would only increase Ztar's brutality. And now, every movement of his body under the Emperor sent shooting pains through his wings. It was becoming harder to bite back the outcries. And then suddenly thoughts of fighting fell away and there was no more anger; only confusion and misery.

Hopelessness wrapped around Warren. He could find nothing to justify the Ztar's anger. Was this how it would be for the rest of his days? Never knowing what would set Ztar off? Never certain of why the pain was inflicted. These past weeks he had worked to read Ztar and what triggered him, but this came out of the blue. If his best efforts couldn't predict the rage, then he'd spend all his days and nights in constant high alert and dread.

Warren was sacrificing so much to protect Earth while trying to hang on to sanity by a thread. Walking that tightrope between complete submission to Ztar and resisting enough to hold on to some small part of himself without risking Earth's safety was stress to the extreme. And who cared? No one. He was not worthy of care, certainly not in Ztar's eyes. A body for the alien's sexual gratification and an outlet for his anger – that's all he was. This nightmare filled with fear, pain, and sexual slavery was more than he could bear. He couldn't do it any more! Despair mixed with pain that mixed with fear. Warren didn't notice his tears as pain consumed him body and mind.

Ztar devoured Archangel as the compulsion to release the anger and satisfy his sexual need drove him. Unchecked emotions mixed together in a wild, volatile blend. He wanted Archangel in sensual passion to escape the aggravations of the day, but yet he wanted to punish the defiant human for his insolence. Ztar pushed aside his internal conflict and ran his hands over the magnificent body that was his possession. It belonged to him and him alone. He would use it as he saw fit!

Ztar raked his fingers through the feathers, tore at clothing, and pressed into the human's body with force, while the object of his lust/anger groaned and hissed beneath him. With a hand to either side of Archangel's face, he held him fast in another crushing kiss. Then what felt like trickles ran over one hand. Odd!

Ztar rose up slightly to look more fully at Archangel. The human's eyes were overflowing with tears and they ran down his face. Ztar gazed at the sight of his companion's silent weeping. Archangel was crying? That wasn't supposed to happen! He reached out empathically. Pain, despair, confusion – it was all so sharp! Archangel was being swallowed by it.

'By the gods!' Ztar's anger evaporated in that instant with the realization that he had lost himself once again to the beast within. It was like a bucket of cold water to the face. He nearly leapt backward off Archangel. 'Not again! By the gods, what am I doing?!'

"My Archangel!" and he reached out and pulled his companion up to him in a gentle embrace, wrapping his arms around the trembling body. "You are right, you did nothing to deserve this! I lost control!"

Warren allowed the Emperor to hold him without struggling. He was just so relieved the episode had passed. They sat on the floor a couple minutes before Ztar initiated standing.

"I will not come to you tonight. You rest." With that, Ztar returned to his own chambers. Although Ztar seemed remorseful for his actions, Warren noted that the Emperor did not apologize. Apparently, imperial whores weren't worthy of that.

###

'What manner of being am I?!' Ztar raged at himself. 'For taking two extra minutes to come to me I punish him?!'

The Emperor stormed back and forth in his chambers – the anger that Ztar now directed at himself needed the physical outlet. 'Where did all my grand plans to be consistent and steady with Archangel go? This anger had nothing to do with him, yet he suffered for it! By all the gods that are, how can I justify that?'

He needed Sukja. His attendant would help him sort this out.

###

Warren walked over to the window seat and crawled into the corner. Pulling his wings tightly around himself in spite of the pain that still stabbed with every movement, he tried to go away in his mind.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't," he whimpered. 'God, please release me from this hell. I'll do anything! Please!' he prayed, something he hadn't done in earnest a very long time. 'Why am I here? What did I do so wrong in my life? Why am I being punished? Please…I just need to know!'

Warren stayed in the corner, hugging his knees to his chest within the feather cocoon.

###

Sukja entered Ztar's chambers knowing the Emperor was in emotional turmoil – that was evident from his mental summons. The feelings of self-directed anger had spilled over in the telepathy.

"My Emperor," he greeted the pacing man.

"I don't know what came over me, Sukja! Archangel didn't cause of my anger, but he took the brunt of it. I wanted him so I could _escape_ the anger, Sukja, not so he could become its target. But that's what happened!"

Sukja needed Ztar to back up a few steps if he was going to be of any assistance.

"Could we sit?" he suggested.

Ztar hesitated at first, but then complied.

"You went to Archangel this afternoon, and things didn't go as planned," Sukja opened.

Ztar nodded and then related the situation in all its fury-filled details. As he described what had transpired, it only drove home more clearly to the Emperor how misdirected his rage had been.

"The anger wasn't about Archangel taking his time. It was everything else. I was wrong to take it out on him. That's not what I intended. But I lost control – again! I could have found the quiet place in his mind like I've done before, but my anger blocked any desire for that. By the gods, I need to get a handle on this!"

Ztar couldn't sit any longer. He stood and began pacing again.

"He offered to help me calm down. Begged me to stop. He pleaded to know what he'd done wrong, but I listened to none of it. By the gods, Sukja…!"

"But you _did_ regain control, my Emperor. That's encouraging," Sukja pointed out, trying to find something good in the backward slip. The Emperor was more distraught over what had happened than he'd seen in a very long time. Sukja was actually encouraged by the level of Ztar's distress.

"Only after I had inflicted enough pain that Archangel was crying. Crying, Sukja! How much damage did I do today? He's so filled with despair – the empathic connect is dark with it. He's sitting in a corner right now thinking how hopeless his situation is. If I lose him to that despair I will never forgive myself!"

Ztar wrestled with emotions he hadn't felt in a long time over a bedmate. He'd harden his heart so much to avoid the pain of yet another companion that could not survive or satisfy him. All he wanted was someone with whom he didn't have to be less than what he was; didn't have to hold back and accept less than complete fulfillment. The augmentation took so much from him! Damn the gods for the day he was betrayed by those he trusted!! May they burn in whatever hell he had sent them to.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, my Emperor. You're working on controlling the anger – that's what is important. Change does not happen overnight."

Ztar stopped and faced his attendant squarely.

"Tell that to Archangel! Or to any of the bedmates I've hurt. I don't know what I am anymore, Sukja. But I do know what I want – Archangel. I want him in my life for a very long time. I finally have a companion that satisfies me. I've waited years for this, Sukja – can you understand?"

Sukja nodded. He knew all too well how long the Emperor had tried to find a suitable companion. And Sukja knew precisely how many bedmates Ztar had gone through during his years of service to the Emperor. Sukja remembered their names, their faces – some of them haunted him, especially those that didn't not survive intact – either physically or mentally. Most, though, were simply discarded by the Emperor as unsuitable.

"I do understand. I know how important it is to you that this pairing works."

Ztar paced again, but more slowly and with less agitation.

"For it to work, I need to get a handle on the misdirected anger. But it takes over before I know what's happening." Ztar's voice was filled with frustration.

"But there are warning signs, Ztar. We've discuss them. That's when you need to stop the spiraling. Right then, when you see the signs." Sukja had coached Ztar on this for longer than Archangel had been in the picture. Ztar said he wanted to regain control over that part of him, and Sukja believed Ztar was being truthful. Yet it was always the same story. Ztar knew the signals of impending rage, and often he would halt the escalation at that point. But there were other times, like this afternoon, when he chose to let the anger overwhelm him. Why?

Ztar stopped in front of the windows and stared out at the star streaks as the Mi-Lartui sped through the blackness. That blackness resembled the part of himself he was struggling to control – it was dark and deep. He sighed.

"You must tire of giving me the same advice over and over. The results are always the same. I know what to do, yet…" the Turzent Emperor shook his head. "I am a mystery unto myself!"

The Emperor stood quietly for a minute contemplating. "Perhaps I didn't have enough reason in the past to conquer this. My previous companions were failures – what was there to motivate me? Maybe those failures contributed to my anger at the time. Maybe I really didn't care if I caused by bedmates pain – they were part of the problem."

They'd been down this path before, too, Sukja lamented silently. What Ztar said was likely one facet of the issue, but Sukja believed it went even deeper that failed pairings. The failures were symptoms, not causes.

Ztar turned away from the vastness of space to face his attendant. "But Archangel is different. This pairing is right! He is perfect for me in every way I can name. He will be my motivation, Sukja. He will give me reason to halt the anger." Ztar strode back to sit once again across from his confidante.

"I want much from Archangel, Sukja. The fire he ignites in me burns white hot. I've felt nothing like it before! It consumes me…" Ztar's voice trailed off.

A tinge of concern ran through Sukja at the Emperor's words. They hinted of obsession, something that could become a problem. It would bear watching.

"Do you want more from Archangel than just him in your bed?" Sukja inquired.

Ztar looked into his attendant's eyes. "Yes. For the first time in a long time, I think I want more than just a bedmate. I might want it go to beyond sex. Perhaps Archangel could be a true companion."

Sukja was pleased to hear Ztar was at long last considering a relationship rather than just a sex partner. But Archangel was not here of his own choosing and a deeper relationship between Ztar and the human may never be possible. That could be a very problematic situation.

"My Emperor, it pleases me greatly that you may have finally found someone that you wish to bond with more closely. Very good news indeed." Sukja paused knowing Ztar may not want to hear what he had to say next. "But I also caution about expecting too much. Archangel is not here willingly. Not only is he here against his will, but the pairing is unnatural to him. There is only so much you can reasonably expect. Do not build up hopes for what may not be possible."

When it looked like Ztar was going to interrupt in protest, Sukja plowed forward. "I'm not saying it could never happen, but let reason guide you. Don't press for more than he's capable of giving, especially in the beginning. Be clear in your own mind about what you want from Archangel and make sure he knows that. Be steady and consistent. I urge you to let him settle into this new life with clear but _limited_ expectations."

Ztar sat transfixed on his attendant's words. They were filled with much wisdom.

"As for your own behavior, I see it as one step backward in a generally forward journey. You will overcome this, my Emperor. For now, reassure Archangel with your actions, as that will go further than words. His despair comes from hopelessness that his circumstance will never improve. Show him it can improve. If you're consistent, he will learn what to expect from you and what you expect from him. When things are clear and settled and he is less fearful, the despair should ease."

Ztar sighed heavily.

"If only it were all as easy as saying the words."

"Very little in life that's worth pursuing is easy, my Emperor. But you have the will and the strength to do whatever you set your mind to do." Sukja said with a reassuring smile.

"I told him I wouldn't go to him tonight, but I want him," the Emperor admitted.

"Keep your word, my Emperor. Never lie to Archangel. More than anything, he needs to know he can believe what you say. And you need to know he believes you. I cannot emphasize that enough."

Ztar was thoughtful for a bit.

"He's developing a friendship with Officer de'Letnoir. That's a good sign," Ztar said offhandedly.

"I know. de'Letnoir keeps me informed. He is encouraging Archangel to start forming attachments among the crew. So far, though, Archangel is only comfortable with the officer."

Ztar did not respond to that information, but sat quietly in thought.

"You've given me much to contemplate, my attendant."

"Then I have served my Emperor well today."

With Ztar assuaged, Sukja's thoughts turned to Archangel. What Ztar had said earlier about his emotional state was worrisome. "I should check on Archangel," he informed Ztar.

Ztar nodded. "The empathic connection is dark and heavy. His thoughts…" Ztar paused as he surface-read Archangel, "are of what he's lost…and life without hope," he finished with a heavy sigh.

'In the name of the gods, how had he come to this? Ripping a being from everything they know to satisfy his needs?' Ztar questioned himself. 'But its imperial tradition – it's my right to claim whomever I choose. And now that I have Archangel, I can't let him go. I won't! He is mine and he must survive!'

Sukja saw sadness in Ztar's face. The Emperor wanted so much from the human and likely the only thing Archangel felt toward Ztar was odium and repulsion. How could this pairing ever work? But Sukja wouldn't dwell on that right now. Right now, Archangel's apparent emotional crises was top priority.

###

Despair wrapped around him like icy blackness and he hugged his knees closer; pulled the wings in tighter. He felt cold from the inside out. Where was his anger? He should be livid at what Ztar did. All he felt was hopelessness. The rampage in his room, the days of simmering fury, and his brief physical attack of the Emperor – was that all he had? Had he been beaten down already? How pathetic!

Warren tried to rekindle the anger. 'You should be ripping this room apart again, Worthington! Where's the Archangel in you? Instead you're curled up in this corner like some whipped puppy feeling sorry for yourself. Is this how you want Scott and Hank and the Prof to find you?!'

His chest tightened at the thought of his friends. They were coming, weren't they? The Prof would find a way, wouldn't he? But belief in that rescue had become tenuous. Only by him remaining with Ztar would the Earth be safe from the Turzents. And Warren didn't believe for one minute that Ztar's threat against Earth was empty.

'They're not coming for you – it's not logical. Why put all of humanity in jeopardy for me? Not happening, flyboy! You were a fool to have believed it! Who in their right mind would risk a planet to save one individual?' Warren shuddered with the release of that belief and he felt sick.

'The Prof knows you. Knows you'll do exactly what you've been doing – whatever it takes to protect Earth. They're counting on that. Every damn one of them that sold you out is counting on you to make whatever sacrifices are demanded. Why risk such a simple solution with an improbable rescue directly prohibited by the Accord? Back on Earth, life is going merrily along as if the Turzent Empire doesn't exist. Why risk that? Only a stupid and naïve fool would believe anyone on Earth would risk that for me. Stupid and naïve!'

Blackness sunk deeper.

Belief in a miracle rescue had kept him from contemplating his long-term future until now. But if that rescue was not coming, then what? His future suddenly became very bleak. Empty days without purpose. Pain filled nights spent beneath the brutal alien who had taken everything from him.

'That can't be all there is! But God it is. Everything's gone. My life is gone. No Worthington Enterprises, no saving the world from the bad guys. No friends, no family. I'll never see them again. I'm nothing – not an X-man, not the head of Dad's company. I'm not even an individual by the Accord, just so much property. I'm nothing! Nobody! Just a whore for Ztar's sexual gratification. Can't do it. Can't!'

He held tight to himself, wanting to scream until his voice gave out. 'Damn Sukja – he should have let me go crazy that night. Insanity would be better than this!'

Despair drove itself to his soul and he moaned from the stab. Tears and sobbing came without warning and with such intensity he shook. But it helped nothing and only served to make him feel more ashamed. He had thought he was done with the crying.

'You're pathetic, Worthington. What kind of X-man sits in the corner bawling like a child?! Get angry, goddamn it! Stand up for yourself! Figure out some way to fight back!' But he couldn't resurrect the anger and the tears kept coming.

'Weak and pathetic!' he judged himself with disgust, only causing the sobs to become stronger.

###

Sukja left Ztar's chambers for his own. What the Emperor had said about the human's level of despair concerned him greatly. First, though, he'd check on the human via the monitor. What he saw magnified his worry. In fact, he was so concerned he decided if he wasn't invited in, he may enter the human's chambers anyway. He headed to Archangel's door.

"Archangel, may I enter?" Sukja asked through the comm and waited. No response.

"Archangel, please let me in. I'd like to talk about what happened with Ztar. I think you'll want to hear what I have to say," he hoped to stimulate enough curiosity for an invitation to enter.

From the corner of the window seat, Warren sucked in a breath and halted the sobs at the sound of Sukja's voice. 'Just leave me alone,' he thought weakly. He had as much desire to see Sukja as he had to see Ztar. They were one in the same for all intents and purposes. Ztar used and abused while Sukja manipulated compliance and mopped up afterward. What could Sukja possibly have to say that would change anything?

"Archangel, I'm concerned about you. Please allow me to come in," he pleaded gently.

'Yea, right. Concerned that maybe I'll slit my throat and your Emperor won't have his whore to fuck and torture anymore! Maybe he'll turn on the rest of you then – is that it?'

Warren again tried to rekindle the anger with his thoughts, but they rang hollow. He nearly began crying again. Anger didn't hurt and he desperately wanted it back, but it continued to elude him.

Sukja contemplated breaking his word to the human and enter the chambers without permission. It would be a serious breach of trust. Did the situation warrant it? From what Ztar said and from the image of the human tucked in the corner sobbing, it may. But he'd try again to be invited in.

"Archangel, you deserve an explanation. At least allow yourself to have that and then I'll leave."

Warren listened. He was certain that as soon as Sukja tried to explain Ztar's behavior, he would get angry. That anger might keep him going. The blackness taking hold was too much to deal with on top of everything else. Maybe for a change, he could do the using. He could use the attendant to resurrect his anger and maybe hold back depression or insanity. All he had left was his mind – the rest of his life was destroyed. It would be the ultimate defeat to allow Ztar to destroy his sanity.

'Hold on to at least that much, X-man! Suck it up and act like a warrior instead of a sniveling coward!'

He rose on shaky legs, blew his nose, and wiped his eyes. 'Let's see how much anger we can generate!' As tough sounding as his thoughts were, he wasn't feeling very strong.

Sukja was nearly ready to activate the door control when the invitation came.

"Enter."

He sighed in deep relief. First step accomplished. Archangel was seated on the edge of the window seat, his eyes were red and he looked miserable. Not unexpected. But Archangel looked more than miserable. He looked exhausted and unkempt. His uncombed hair hung in his face. Dark circles underscored his eyes. The wings were scruffy. He seemed thinner, almost gaunt. This was not the same man that Sukja first saw 50 days ago. The change hadn't happened overnight he knew. It had happened insidiously. Now as Sukja was really seeing it, he grew more concerned.

"Can I pour us some Dison?" Sukja offered.

"We're not friends, alien. I choose not to drink with my enemy today," Warren said harshly, attempting to create some fire within himself.

Sukja observed the contrast between the words and the body language. The words were heated, but everything else read as demoralized.

"I'll get the Dison anyway, in case you change your mind. I know I could use a drink after talking with Ztar," Sukja said heading to the liquor cabinet. He hoped by ignoring Archangel's wishes that he could kindle something other than despair in the human.

Warren watched with some irritation as the attendant helped himself. Sukja was a master manipulator, so every action was suspect. Warren would allow the irritation he was certain Sukja had intended as it served _his_ purpose, not because his was naïve to Sukja's maneuverings.

Glasses filled, Sukja settled into a chair, taking a sip of the sweet, fiery liqueur. The second glass sat waiting.

"Ztar's anger was misdirected this afternoon," Sukja opened simply. "He regrets it deeply."

Warren could keep his thoughts to himself or he could play the game. If he played along, it may help fire him up. But now that Sukja was in his room, the effort involved seemed nearly too much. Warren struggled to focus through the emotional darkness.

"Bullshit! He regrets nothing. You and I both know that," Warren volleyed back.

"You're wrong," Sukja replied simply. Archangel was. "He regrets that it caused you pain – physically and emotionally."

Warren nearly laughed and choked at the same time. "Do you really expect me to believe that? That is the single most ludicrous statement I've heard in years," he retorted flatly.

How gullible did they think him to be? That was absurd! If there was one thing he knew without a doubt, it was that Ztar couldn't care less about Warren's feelings. Driving that point home was Ztar's Accord – Warren was no longer even a person by its terms.

As ridiculous as Sukja's words were, they failed to raise any anger in him. The despair held fast. The conversation was pointless. Why did he even bother letting Sukja in? Even if he managed to get angry, what good would it do? What had he thought would change by it? He'd feel better? Hold onto his sanity? Maybe remaining sane was a mistake.

'Perhaps a touch of insanity will be the only way to survive this hell,' he pondered.

"It is the truth whether you choose to believe it or not," Sukja said with conviction. "Things can change – your circumstance can improve. The Emperor does not wish to cause you undue distress. He's learning to control his temper, but as with any change, it takes time and there will be slips." Sukja hoped the direct, honest approach would have some effect. Archangel needed to know things could improve – without hope, they would likely lose the human to despair and depression.

"The Emperor does not wish to cause me undue distress?!" That got Warren's ire up, at least a little. "Perhaps he should consider releasing me. That would _greatly_ reduce my distress."

Sukja sighed. This was not going well. He would ignore the comment. "Things will improve, Archangel. Life will not always be so bleak. Ztar is changing – has changed. I've witnessed it."

"Then I can only imagine what the whores before me must have endured. Did any of them survive? How many died or went insane at Ztar's hands? Tell me that, attendant!" As Warren spoke the words he knew he'd touch a nerve in Sukja. A slight change of the facial expression gave it away.

"You are what's important right now, Archangel. I can't begin to imagine what you're going through, but I'm a good listener and I do have some influence with the Emperor."

There was so much hypocrisy in those two sentences, Warren couldn't believe Sukja actually uttered them. He was suddenly very tired. The conversation was too much effort. It wasn't worth it. All Warren wanted was to be alone. He wanted to sink into the despair that pulled at him. There'd be no miracle rescue. His old life was gone and he might as well accept it. Nothing was left to him. This was all there would be from now on.

"Leave," he said succinctly.

The discussion was going from bad to worse. Ztar needed him to soothe the human and ease the despair, but Sukja's heart wasn't in and it showed. Even to him, his words rang insincere and trite. And now Archangel's expression had changed from brief, mild irritation to complete deflation in seconds. Sukja understood that the human had every reason and right to feel hopeless. Everything had been ripped from him and he was forced to be the bedmate of the man who had taken it. Despair was expected. It was normal.

Suicide could also be a possibility. Ztar had lost a prior bedmate to suicide when the pain of indentured life was too great to bear. Who's to say that Archangel wouldn't try the same? His healing factor may make that more difficult, but Sukja was certain Archangel could find ways to end his life if he wanted. And if the depression sunk deep enough, he may not care what happens to Earth. Once that leverage was gone, Archangel would become difficult to control.

In comparison to most previous bedmates, Archangel's lost was greater. No prior bedmate had come from significant wealth and power. No other bedmate had been a warrior. No bedmate was born to fly free. To lie willingly beneath the man who had taken all that from him to protect his world would be incredibly difficult. To do so against his sexual proclivity must be unbearable. Sukja's heart ached in empathy at depth of pain that Archangel must be enduring.

Sukja pulled himself up short. Was he getting too emotionally vested in Archangel to remain objective and do what his Emperor required? 'Need to regain my perspective and detach. Ztar needs this to work – he needs Archangel to come through this. Focus, attendant!'

"Archangel, I will leave if you wish, but not before you hear what I have to say," he paused and observed a flicker of irritation cross Archangel's face. "I regret that you're in this situation and wish you were still on Earth and oblivious to us. But that is not reality. Ztar _does_ regret his actions today. Ztar will not release you – that is reality. But together, you and I can help make life more bearable if you let me help." Sukja let that sit for a few seconds as he studied the reaction.

Warren listened. If Sukja believed for one moment that he'd buy this 'I'm on your side crap' he was delusional. No one was on Warren's side in this sordid affair – not Xavier, not the Shi'ar, not Earth's leaders, and certainly not Sukja. He was alone, sold out, and forgotten.

"Life will improve, Archangel. Don't give up," Sukja knew how ridiculous that sounded as soon as he spoke it, but it had been said. Perhaps it would cause a different reaction, something equally useful – anger.

Warren had had enough. "Life will improve" – how ludicrous! The only way it would improve was if he escaped. That, too, was prohibited by the Accord or he'd forfeit Earth. Warren gathered himself up for one final say and then the conversation was over whether Sukja liked it or not.

"Let me make sure I understand you. I've been forcibly taken from my home. Life as I know it is gone forever. The man that did that rapes me every night and I must allow it to keep Earth safe from him. When he's angry about something that has nothing to do with me, I take his abuse. Again, I must allow it to keep my world safe. You say he's trying to control his temper, but there may be slipups. These slipups I should expect and accept because he's changing. And because he's changing, albeit slowly, my life will improve in some undefined way. Do I have it right?" Warren asked with disdain.

Perhaps it was time for a different approach, but Sukja wasn't sure any approach would work right now. It _was_ a hopeless situation for the human. There was no brighter side to find. Nothing that Sukja could promise Archangel that would change that. He sighed audibly.

"You have it right. I'm sorry. I wish it were not so, but it is. How you choose to survive your circumstance, though, is entirely up to you. You can wallow in despair and hopelessness or choose another course. It is my fervent hope that you choose the latter," he said with an openness he'd rarely used with bedmates. Archangel was not an ordinary bedmate. He was no fool, no pushover, and not easily manipulated. Sukja kept coming back to the same conclusion – honesty was the best tactic with the human.

"I will deal with my circumstance in my own way. I will not be manipulated into conforming to what you and Ztar scheme. If I choose to wallow in despair, that is my right. I don't give a rat's ass if you two find that unacceptable. Don't worry, I won't do anything rash – I understand the ramifications all too well. Ztar can have my body, but I saw nothing in the Accord about my mind. Unless there's some clause that I missed…"

Sukja was taken aback by Archangel's frankness. "No, there's nothing about your mind. I only hope that you will decide not to add to your misery by holding onto emotions that only cause more pain."

The conversation really was over now. Warren was finished with it. "I told you once to leave, I won't tell you again," he said rising to glare down at the man who presumed to tell him how to feel.

Sukja got up and headed to the door. For the first time in a long time, Sukja felt he had failed his Emperor. He had failed Archangel, too. But he would keep trying, just not anymore today. The human needed time right now. Archangel had obviously moved past the anger and was sliding to depression. This was the most critical time for bedmates. Some could not be pulled from depression's grip.

###

Once Sukja was gone, Warren returned to the window seat for lack of anything else to do. Even if he had something to occupy him, he doubted he had the energy. And so he watched the stars streaks contemplating.

'The signs are all there, Warren ol' boy. You're getting depressed. Been there, done that. Not fun. Justifiable, yes. Unavoidable, perhaps. But do you need to go there so willing?'

He leaned back into the corner against the plumped up pillows and closed his eyes. Sukja was right about one thing, how Warren decided to deal with the miserable hand life had dealt was up to him. He could allow it to destroy him – allow Ztar to destroy him.

'Is that what you want?' he asked himself. 'Everything's gone – true. But you're alive. And where there's life, there's hope. You've always believed that. Is that a belief held only when it's easy?' The answer to the question was no. He had held it during and after Apocalypse, after all. He reopened his eyes and looked out into the vastness of space. The universe was a wondrous place and it was spread out before him. So much to discover and learn. That could be his bright spot in all the blackness of his new existence.

'This will be another test of your belief, flyboy. If you can hang onto hope in the midst of this, it will show the strength of that conviction. That means not giving in to despair. Do you have the guts, rich boy? Have you got what it takes? If you're going to stop the slide into depression, it needs to happen now. Today! Before it gets a foothold. Make your decision, Worthington.'

But depression and insanity had their appeals. Depression could lead to complete uncaring. It could free him from giving a shit about Earth and thus release him from the self-imposed power Ztar had over him. But that was also frightening – it could enslave or kill millions should Warren disobey Ztar under depression's influence to the point of retribution by the Emperor.

Insanity. While it may lead to blissful separation from reality, it also carried the risk of Earth getting hurt in the end from his actions.

Then he needed to consider that Ztar was a powerful telepathy, more than capable of controlling him mentally. Neither depression nor insanity would shield him from that. Warren had no doubt that if he became too volatile or unpredictable, Ztar would use telepathic control. So when all was said and done, Warren would be either depressed or insane and Ztar would take control of his mind to force obedience. What would he gain? Oblivion at best. What would he lose? His mind and Earth. And Ztar would likely still have exactly what he wanted – him in bed.

When he looked at it logically, there really was no decision to be made. Warren pulled his knees up close, leaned his forehead on them, still wrapped in his wings. He needed to shake off the looming despair and he needed to do it now. 'Find the strength that brought you back from the abyss after that second night,' he told himself. 'Find the determination that saved you from Apocalypse's clutches!' Reaching down deep, he sought the courage and will that had made him a survivor. Bruised and battered, yes; but a survivor none the less.

'Ztar will not destroy me! I won't give him that power. Not now, not ever!' Warren promised himself. 'He can molest, abuse, torment me all he wants. He can keep me locked in this tin can, but I refuse to give up. Where there's life, there's hope. Period. I believe that. There's hope – always hope!' He put as much feeling into his pep talk as he could muster.

He felt the strength and power just below the surface. "You can do this, Worthington," he said aloud to himself inside his cocoon. 'You can survive this! All you have to do is decide to do it. Be of iron will. Others have tried to destroy you and look how far they got. You're still here. You're still sane. Don't let Ztar be the one that succeeds where no one else did!' Tears of determination trickled down his face.

Warren opened his feather cocoon and looked at the stars. "Damn Ztar! Damn Sukja! Damn the Turzent Empire! I will NOT let you drive me insane or to depression. I'm stronger that any of you. You'll see just how tough we humans are!"

He took a deep breathe and exhaled slowly to ease the tense in his body. "I swear to you God that Ztar will not destroy me. I will not give him that power!! I'll survive this, you'll see," he cried out at the heavens. Strength poured through him with the words. He felt empowered. It was even better than the power anger had given him. This was from stronger stuff than anger. This power was built from the strength of his soul.

"You can control my body and my mind, Ztar, but you can't touch my soul! You lose!" he declared to the vastness of space.

###

Sukja watched Archangel over the chamber monitor with astonishment. He had not anticipated the turn of mood. Ztar was apparently right all those weeks ago. Archangel was amazingly strong – a survivor. Sukja took no credit for what he just witnessed. It was all the human's own doing. Sukja's heart filled with admiration. Perhaps the human's spirit would triumph after all.

"Good for you, Archangel!" he said to the monitor smiling.

###


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Unleashed**

The weeks passed slowly for Warren. While his determination to not succumb to despair or depression held, he was still hurting deeply. He missed his friends – their friendly banter, the desperate battles to save someone or something or Earth itself, the camaraderie and joking and hanging out. He missed freedom and coffee. He longed to spend one more day at his Colorado aerie. He wanted to taste sushi and apple pie once again. To call his great uncle just to say hi. Walk into the boardroom of Worthington Enterprises and announce another acquisition was agreed to in principle. To fly yet again through Earth's atmosphere, to feel its unique magnetic signature, to breathe its air, to feel the warm of its sun on his wings. To sleep one full night alone in his own bed. Dear God, there was so much he ached for, but it wasn't to be.

Lonely days spent in his room passed in torturous slow motion. Sukja still tried to join him for breakfast every other morning, but that was becoming hit or miss. Most days, his only companion was the PI. As much as that portal to the universe offered, it wasn't human contact. Or even alien contact. The bright spot was learning sonji-mir with the procurement officer. But as often as de'Letnoir suggested or downright pushed Warren to make other acquaintances among the ship's crew, he had no desire to do so. Nothing against them; just too painful. He'd rather deal with the isolation than socialize with people who saw nothing wrong in his role as imperial whore. It felt unseemly.

If Warren had to name one thing that pushed him closest to the edge of insanity, it was the lack of purpose. Every other being on the Mi-Lartui had a reason to get up each morning. They had duties, responsibilities, something that made them feel productive. Warren's only purpose was to satisfy the Emperor's sex drive. A life that once represented so much was now reduced to an existence solely to fulfill someone else's erotic fantasies. Thinking of his life in those terms was too much, and whenever his mind drifted to that summation, he shoved the thoughts down and buried the feelings with all the other garbage from the preceding weeks.

Instead he focused on what little he did have. His sanity, by a thread. His mind; he thanked God that Ztar had ceased taking control of his mind at night to force a particular response or action. He had his insatiable curiosity; the computer databanks allowed him to explore worlds and people and customs and cultures to his heart's content. His growing fluency in the official Turzent Empire language was his singular intellectual accomplishment. His casual friendship with the Officer de'Letnoir.

Most of all, Warren had his time in the air that helped him hang on. The side trips for his benefit to different planets were the highlight of his life. He relished them and anticipated each one with enthusiasm. He allowed himself that enthusiasm as reward for surviving another week, another month. Each time Ztar agreed to a stopover, his soul sang. Sometimes, Ztar would surprise him with an unexpected side trip. And it almost seemed that Ztar took pleasure in those announcements, if Warren was honest with himself. Ztar also seemed to appreciate the breaks in routine.

He and Ztar had fallen into a routine. Ztar was less volatile, more stable and less brutish. Warren finally felt he could predict what Ztar wanted of him. At least the anxiety had eased in that respect. Warren still suffered from stress as the continuous shedding of feathers proved, but at least the feathers also grew back in. It was like an ongoing molt. Warren knew that happened sometimes to captive birds that were highly stressed. And he was a captive bird. And the stress, that was a given.

The molting required a certain level of preening to ensure he could continue to fly. And so Warren did what he must in that regard, but no more. Yet the minimal attention to his feathered appendages was clearly evident in their shabby appearance. They weren't the only thing that looked shabby. His overall appearance had suffered. Even to himself, he looked haggard and ungroomed. He needed a haircut as his golden waves now hung well below his ears.

But at least he had stopped the weight loss. That had been a concern. After Ztar's angry episode with Warren on the floor, his determination to survive had strengthened, but as he came to believe that no rescue was forthcoming, his appetite decreased as the pain of everything he lost increased. With no fat on his body, any pounds shed meant muscle lost – not good. At least he was eating enough again to support his high-speed metabolism.

Despite everything he was dealing with personally, Warren noticed something was going on with Ztar. He had felt the Emperor's tension slowly, steadily increase over the weeks, almost imperceptibly so. It was more in retrospect that Warren noticed. Yet for the most part, Ztar's tension had not translated into increased aggression in bed, much to Warren's relief. On the contrary, Ztar seemed ever more in control of his anger since the episode when he summoned Warren from ship's stores. As bad as that situation had been, Warren felt some good came of it.

Sukja also seemed more on edge, though he did not share with Warren why. And Warren had made a conscious decision not to press with questions. He believed if he remained uninvolved, apart from whatever was causing the tensions, he would somehow be spared some of the undesirable side affects of that stress. Whether by instinct or luck, he was correct.

###

As the weeks passed, Ztar was pleased that Archangel remained in self-imposed isolation on the Imperial deck. It kept him separate from everything and everyone on the Mi-Lartui. His Archangel was pure and untouched by the tense uncertainties and stresses on the rest of the ship. The human's chambers became Ztar's sanctuary. Only there could he leave the pressures and responsibilities of leading an Empire behind. There he could forget the constant poking and prodding of the Commonwealth that seemed hell-bent on forcing him to lash out with war. Those he shed, at least temporarily, on the other side of the door from his beautiful distraction.

As Ztar came to Archangel more and more as a refuge, his character changed. The anger that had gripped Ztar's soul for so many years was now harder to find. Their bedchamber had become a place for sensual pleasures and peace for Ztar, not a place to release anger and frustrations. He looked forward each day to the simple pleasures of the night where there were no generals expecting decisions, no staff members looking for direction, no Commonwealth nipping at his heels. Archangel expected nothing from him; placed no demands on him. Just sensuality and fulfillment with Archangel in his arms awaited him at the end of tension-filled day.

It was the end of a particularly difficult day, when Ztar gently maneuvered over Archangel and began kissing him tenderly, hands roving across his upper body. He gently bit Archangel's perfect lips and move down to an ear lobe. Ztar breathed in deeply the scent of wing and feather as he nuzzled the human's neck. The mutant's wings represented many of things he found so sensual about Archangel. Ztar loved their scent. They smelled of animal and wildness and the open skies.

He moved back to Archangel's mouth – it tasted sweet and warm. Ztar would wager his Empire that no other single being could offered so many intoxicating pleasures in one package. He dug his fingers deeper into the wings, forcing shorter feathers between his fingers; careful though to not break any of the delicate structures. Archangel inhaled sharply as Ztar tantalized all the right spots on the sensitive wings.

Rising up, Ztar slid his hands off the wings, over Archangel's shoulders, across his chest, and down to his groin. Ztar was a skilled lover and he could elicit arousal from even the most resistant of companions. Archangel's body replied to Ztar's attentions, despite the human's attempt not to. Passion flared in Ztar…and something else. Something more tender and giving.

Ztar rested a telepathic tendril in that tranquil place deep within Archangel's mind that kept him anchored. 'Don't lose control,' the Emperor reminded himself. He was getting very skilled at that control, he thought with pride – with Archangel's unwitting help, of course.

Archangel looked up at the Emperor, his eyes reflecting the battle raging between his mind and body. Ztar was eliciting pleasure but Archangel was determined not to respond, yet his body was betraying him. Even after all the weeks, Archangel still resisted him in that regard. How Ztar longed that it was not so! If only his Archangel would just give in willingly that one little bit more, but he held onto that piece of himself so ferociously.

As Ztar continued caressing Archangel, other tendrils learned what was giving him the most delight. Guided by his empathic link, Ztar's hands and mouth found all the erogenous points on Archangel's slender frame.

'Let me give _you_ pleasure, my Archangel,' Ztar thought delicately to his bedmate. He wanted Archangel to want him, as impossible as that may be. But he wouldn't stop trying. Although Archangel did not project a reply, Ztar continued his quest.

Softly, gently Ztar educed ever more physical responses from Archangel's body. He wanted to become one with his companion. To show Archangel how wonderful this could be. He supplemented the physical with mental, immersing himself telepathically in Archangel's mind, gently pushing aside the conflict that was attempting to block what Ztar was skillfully building in him. But he'd do no more than that – no overt control, just suppression.

Once Ztar masked Archangel's natural aversion to being with another male, Archangel was free to respond to Ztar in ways he would not have normally. For the first time, Archangel kissed Ztar back without prompting. That little action sparked intense desire in Ztar. But rather than taking pleasure only for himself from Archangel, he sought to give more to his companion instead.

Guided by his mental link, he provided the human whatever was needed to further the fervor. Ztar reveled in sensations he was eliciting in Archangel, enjoying them vicariously through the link. More and more the sexual heat and desire escalated in the human.

Warren grasped at Ztar with a sexual fire that he hadn't known he possessed. Somewhere his mind reminded him that this was a _man_, his rapist and tormentor for the past many weeks. Oddly, it didn't matter. The incredible sensations coursing through his body blocked the caring. He simply wanted more. All the brakes were off. He didn't know why and didn't care. Warren pulled the alien to him in another demanding kiss. He wanted those skilled hands everywhere on his body, wanted them to drown him in the building ecstasy.

An almost mind-numbing kaleidoscope of touch, taste, smell, want, and need continued to build…waves of pleasure ran through both men. Archangel shuddered beneath Ztar with the intensity while the Emperor trembled from the carnal cravings that threatened to devour him. The Turzent was driven to do more of whatever the human wanted – he focused his entire being on pleasuring the human.

Warren's body was on fire! It didn't matter who the person on top of him was. The world outside the bed no longer existed – there was only rapturous, sexual pulses that wrapped around and through him. And he wanted still more. He kissed, probed, caressed, and urged. The pleasure and heat became almost unbearable. Spontaneous combustion was not out of the question.

A spark ignited somewhere deep within Warren and an energy was awakened in reply to flood of sensations overwhelming his mind and body. Part of his mind registered something different was happening and it frightened him. Another part wasn't fearful – a knowing that this energy building from within was right and natural. The energy fully enveloped him, cloaking him in a fiery desire so powerful he lost all sense of who and what he was. It was as so though he no longer had a physical body – he was only euphoric sensation and voracious need.

The energy rose up and flowed around Ztar, inundating him physically and mentally. He was rapt by a passion so complete that nothing else existed – not the ship, the chambers, the bed. Nothing but him, his Archangel, and indescribable ecstasy!

Waves of rapture poured through Ztar from Archangel. He devoured his courtesan, who returned the favor with equal passion. They melded together, physically and mentally, each seeking to give to the other and take from the other equally. At some point, Ztar entered Archangel, but it was almost an unnecessary act, as if the rapture didn't require it to bring climax.

Warren was vaguely aware that he had been penetrated, but he was oblivious to pain. His body wanted to be taken – needed the sex to come to conclusion. And when Ztar thrust in and out, only waves of intense, sexual release moved through him. He let the Emperor ride him without caring how much hurt he'd caused in the past. Nothing mattered except satisfying the need.

Time passed outside of Ztar and Warren until they were beyond endurance. Then ever so slowly, the energy that had threatened to incinerate them faded. Two exhausted bodies lay in the bed, unable to speak or move. Sleep descended upon both quickly and deeply.

The Emperor was the first to wake, Archangel still wrapped in his arms. He brushed his hand across Archangel's forehead and through his golden hair, now matted from dried sweat.

'By the gods, what _was_ that??' asked himself remembering the indescribably powerful, seductive energy that had taken control of them. The mere thought of it aroused him again. 'Never in my wildest fantasies had I dreamed anything like that was possible!'

He had wanted nothing more than to give pleasure – not take it. When was the last time he had done that? Then with a mental start, Ztar realized he may have made love for the first time since his youth. Since before every tryst was to scratch a sexual itch, gain illicit information from his unwitting bedmate, or as a strategic ploy to move him to the next rung on the military or political ladder. Since before he took and discarded bedmate after bedmate trying to find the one that fulfilled him and could survive him.

Two things came together to create whatever had happened, the Emperor concluded. He hadn't sought pleasure only for himself – he had sought only to give it to his Archangel. And as a result, Ztar had telepathically swept aside the human's aversions. Something that in his past selfish desire to satisfy only _his_ needs, Ztar had never bothered with. And his reward was beyond anything he had ever experienced!

Glancing over at a clock, Ztar jolted when it told him it was mid morning. He had slept through the morning briefing and other tasks that should have been completed. Normally, that would have angered him, but looking down at a still sleeping Archangel, no anger materialized.

'So what that I overslept. I'm the Emperor!' Then he carefully slipped from the bed so as to not waken Archangel and made his way to his chambers, but not before kissing Archangel on the forehead.

###

Warren found waking up difficult. He just couldn't seem to shake off sleep in his usual quick fashion. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he rubbed his eyes. It was mid-morning, he'd slept way later than normal. What was wrong this morning?

Without warning, a flood of memories and sensations from the previous night hit him hard. 'Oh my god, what did I _do_?!!'

Images of him and Ztar flashed through his mind. His body remembered the overwhelming physical sensations. Memories of heat and burning desire and raw passion washed over him. Warren leaped out of bed and just made it to the toilet where he lost what little was in his stomach. He sat on the bathroom floor feeling woozy.

'How could I have done – _that_?! Oh God! Maybe it's not real. Maybe Ztar put false memories in my head.' Warren tried to convince himself. 'Ugh!' He put his hands to his temples. 'Stop kidding yourself, Worthington. Ztar may have worked his telepathy on you, but you did exactly what you remember!'

He sat quietly for sometime, retreating to the tranquility in his mind that had gotten him through the past months with some semblance of sanity. Breathing deeply and slowly, he calmed his stomach and his nerves. When he felt in more control, he set aside thinking about it to shower, dress, and brew his favorite tea, extra-strong.

With tea in hand, he allowed his thoughts to go back to the previous night. This time, he looked at the situation from a more detached perspective. Ztar had definitely used some form of mind control on him, but it was nothing he'd experienced before. He recalled suddenly not feeling repulsed by the man on top of him. There had been an odd almost melting away sensation in his mind. Then he had felt almost drunk – no inhibitions or anything to put the brakes on. Yep, Ztar definitely had used some kind of control.

Then there was the little matter of a strange energy he recalled running through him. Had that been Ztar's energy field Sukja told him about? No, that didn't seem right. It didn't seem to come from Ztar, but like it emanated from inside Warren. He remembered being aware something was happening, but at the time he didn't care and wasn't afraid.

'If that really came from me, what _was_ it?' Warren had no answers.

Warren focused on how it felt – an energy that formed into rapture or ecstasy was the only way he could even begin to describe it. And if he was remembering Ztar's reaction correctly, he was caught up in its power equally.

'If that is repeatable, Ztar is going to want more of it,' Warren groaned. 'He's got me now,' he said in defeat. 'Don't know if I can fight whatever he did.'

The only positive side that Warren could find was that instead of intense pain, there was intense pleasure. 'Be grateful for small things,' he told himself.

Then Warren expertly retreated from his thoughts and feelings about what had happened and shoved them down deep, along with all the other buried memories of the past long weeks. He would dwell on it no longer; he'd only end up torturing himself.

###

A few days later, Warren exited the Emperor's private galley with ingredients for an afternoon snack when he heard loud voices coming from the conference room.

"What do you mean you it's_ possible_ FTL research data was smuggled to the Commonwealth?!!" Ztar voice echoed through the hall.

"My Emperor, there's no conclusive _proof_ that is the case!" a male voice implored.

Warren hesitated outside the open doorway, out of sight, his curiosity piqued.

"But yet you believe that has occurred!"

Warren guessed Ztar pulled that from the male's mind.

"Please, allow us to determine with certainty. My beliefs are meaningless. We require proof."

"Do not play me for a fool, Bjortyn! I see your evidence, it appears quite conclusive to me."

'Pulled from the man's head again?' Warren speculated.

"Under _your_ watch this has occurred. The Empire's most important research now in the hands of our _enemy_!! This will not go unpunished!" Ztar roared.

"Emperor, I implore you to give me time to rectify the situation," Bjortyn's voice was on the brink of cracking.

"You believe this is _rectifiable_?! How by the gods would you do that? The damage is done through _your_ incompetence. You have jeopardized my Empire, Bjortyn! I will not tolerate that…" Ztar's voice had taken on a very ominous tone. It actually frightened Warren. He could only image how terrified this Bjortyn must be!

"_Please_, my Emperor, give me a chance…" the man begged, nearly sobbing.

Warren felt now was a good time to slip quietly past the door to his suite, wanting to maintain his policy of naivety in Imperial matters. But as he passed the doorway he couldn't help a glance into the room. What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

Ztar shimmered like a mirage, his arm extended toward a male that could only be Bjortyn. A wave of distortion shot from Ztar's hand and slammed into the other Turzent, sending him flying across the room into the wall at incredible velocity. The unfortunate Bjortyn slid to the floor, eyes open, but obviously lifeless to Warren's keen eyesight.

Warren was frozen in place. So that was the energy field Sukja told him about weeks ago!

Ztar head turned abruptly toward the door where Warren stood, rage dancing in his eyes.

"Back to your chambers!!" he bellowed.

Warren had no trouble obeying that command. Warren did not see Ztar again for two days and nights.

###

Many days after the incident with Bjortyn, Sukja was at Warren's door.

"May I enter?" he asked politely.

Warren stepped back to allow Sukja to pass. He knew immediately that something was bothering the attendant.

"Let's sit," Sukja said as he walked to an overstuffed chair in the sitting area. Warren joined him.

"I come with a request. Tell me everything you know about your planet's relationship with the Shi'ar Empire and about the warp-space portal that's nearby."

Warren was surprised. Didn't the Empire already know all that? After all, Earth was part of it now. They'd had months to use their advanced technology to learn anything they desired about Earth. He asked as much of Sukja.

"There is information that is only available in the mind, not stored in computers or other records. It's that information I wish to learn."

"Ztar has access to everything I know."

"That is correct. But I do not."

Warren was confused about where this was going. Sukja couldn't possibly be working behind Ztar's back because Ztar would know in a heartbeat. Whatever Sukja was up to, Warren doubted it was worth Ztar's wraith.

"This makes me uncomfortable," Warren said honestly to Sukja. "I won't risk Ztar's anger if he has not asked you to do this!"

Warren's relationship with Ztar had been tolerable of late, especially since that intense night between them. He wasn't willing to go back to the brutality of the early weeks on the Mi-Lartui by betraying the Emperor.

"The Emperor has asked me to do this."

"But why? It makes no sense." Warren said firmly. He was not that gullible.

Sukja sighed. He had anticipated resistance and had told the Emperor as much.

"Archangel, if you must, ask Ztar. But put simply, Ztar wishes to keep what is between the two of you free of Imperial matters. He is quite insistent."

Warren wasn't convinced. It made no sense that the telepathic Emperor would not invade his mind for whatever information he wanted.

"When I hear it that from the Ztar himself, then I will tell you what I know," Warren stood, ending the conversation.

"Very well. Comm me when you've had your discussion with the Emperor. But have that conversation today." And Sukja left.

That evening, lying together quietly in bed, Ztar asked Warren for an encore of the intense night they shared many nights earlier. He had concluded the morning after that the experience was too intense to repeat nightly, and Ztar hadn't tried to induce it since.

"I don't know if I can. That was something new. I don't know how it happened, let alone how to recreate it. I don't even know what 'it' is!" Warren was truthful with the Emperor as lying to a telepath wasn't possible.

"Then we must do as we did that night and see what happens," Ztar followed with a tender kiss.

Warren looked at the Emperor, ready to read whatever he could in Ztar's face. "One thing first. Sukja asked me for some information today about Earth…"

"My Archangel, it pleases me that you hesitated at Sukja's request. But he is indeed acting on my behalf."

"But you can pull whatever I know directly from me!" Warren was still mystified.

Ztar sat up and gently pulled Archangel into a sitting position. Then he looked directly into the blue eyes he could disappear into and not care.

"You are my escape from all that is the Empire. All the problems, crises, political maneuverings, and endless tasks, reports, meetings. From all the diplomatic intrigue, the constant strategizing. When I'm with you, I'm free from my worries, and suspicions, and the fear of knives in my back. Free from my anger and frustrations and those things that haunt me in the night."

He placed a hand on either side of Archangel shoulders. "You are my sanctuary – my lifeline to sanity. I will protect that at all costs."

Ztar sighed deeply and slid his hands down to Archangel's and held them. "I will not taint that by involving you with Imperial business, even to the point of not probing your mind for what you know about Earth's political and military alliances." Ztar paused. "Please tell Sukja what you know."

Warren looked at Ztar incredulously. '_Please_?!' But Ztar did not acknowledge the thought.

"Now, my Archangel. Let's see if we can conjure up another special night!"

The next day, Warren told Sukja what he could. He wanted to ask the whys and wherefores, but maintaining his separation from imperial problems was serving him well and he didn't want to risk that. And after all he had been through, Warren had a hard time coming up with a reason not to tell everything he knew about the planet and people that had given him up as a peace concession.

###

Ztar reread the communiqué from the Commonwealth's diplomatic arm with disbelief. In essence, it was declaring that his Empire had encroached on Commonwealth charted space with the acquisition of the Earth System.

This was entirely without credence! Nothing had indicated prior Commonwealth presence in that system. No military intelligence even hinted that the Commonwealth had an interest in that portion of space. There were no outposts anywhere close to the isolated little star.

The only reason Ztar could fathom that would cause the Commonwealth stake claim to the Earth System was the warp-space portal in that sector. What did they know about that portal that Ztar did not?

Damn, where were those scientific reports he had ordered weeks ago on the portal? Certainly, the outpost scientists had learned _something_ in those weeks.

Ztar was boiling. The Commonwealth had been pushing and prodding for months now. Do they really want war or just trying to see how far they can goad Ztar? Where is the line in the sand? To what purpose was the Commonwealth pushing the limits of Ztar's tolerance?

Was the Empire ready for war? Was _he_ ready if it came to that? Ztar had so carefully and strategically expanded his empire. Favoring systems that brought immediate strength to the Empire rather than wasting resources on systems of little short-term value. That meant many pre-FTL systems within Imperial boundaries were unaware that they sat within a large galactic empire. Their resources were as yet untapped. That was good and bad.

His one ace-in-the-hole had been the FTL advancement. Faster ships that used less energy would have been a huge advantage in war. Now that advantage may be lost. MI had not been able to determine exactly how much data had been slipped to the Commonwealth. Best to assume they had everything and were driving hard to perfect the FLT drive enhancement ahead of the Empire. Who would win that race?

Ztar examined himself carefully – was he someone that could wage a successful war against an enemy of nearly identical capabilities and resources? Conquest of less advanced planets and star systems was easy. Of late, his skills as a military leader had not been greatly tested. The larger the Empire became, the easier the acquisitions. Most systems simply bowed to his will and joined without struggle. Even those systems that joined together to hold him off, eventually fell to his Empire's greater strength and resources. Had this made him less fit to lead now? Had he lost his edge?

The burdens of leading an Empire rested heavily on Ztar's broad shoulders. He believed the next few weeks would be a turning point in his life and for his Empire.

###

Though he was shielded from most of what was transpiring outside of Deck 2, Warren was growing more apprehensive. Ztar was distracted, sometimes Warren wondered if he was even in the same room with him at night. He played out all sorts of scenarios of what could possibly be weighing so heavily on Ztar. Not knowing was beginning to drive Warren crazy. Sukja was of no help, likely under orders from Ztar not to discuss whatever it was.

Warren's security clearance both on the computer and deck access was greatly restricted. His self-imposed limits to Deck 2 and stores was now bio-sig mandated. Knowing he could not leave those areas made the restriction far more difficult to accept. At least before, it was his _choice_. Now that choice was taken from him.

Remaining true to his word, Ztar continued to stop by planets suitable for Warren when his need grew uncomfortable, even if for only a couple hours. There were times when Warren sensed that the side trip was causing Ztar a great deal of inconvenience, though he never complained. When it came to keeping Warren happy in that regard, Ztar appeared to be doing what he could. For that much, Warren was grateful.

Ztar now spent the entire night with Warren on a regular basis. Occasionally, they didn't have sex when Ztar was too exhausted. He merely held Warren in his arms and drifted to sleep. Such a change from the man who had taken pleasure in severely abusing him early on. For that, too, Warren was grateful.

Now if someone would just tell him what the hell was going on outside of Deck 2?

###

The Commonwealth seemed hell-bent to poke and prod Ztar without cause. Did they truly want war? No other explanation seemed plausible. The Turzent Empire had done little to provoke. In fact, Ztar had gone to great lengths over the past many weeks to do just the opposite. He acquiesced the Verronkya system when they expanded once again in his direction. Strategically, it wasn't important and it puzzled Ztar and his military leaders as to why the Commonwealth desired the two-planet, non-FTL star system in the first place. The only reasonable explanation was to incite.

Verronkya was just one example of the Commonwealth's goading of the Empire. Several times his military wanted to strike back, but Ztar held them in check. He would not allow himself to be manipulated by the Commonwealth. Not over things of little value. The Emperor had always prided himself in recognizing what was truly worth fighting for and what was merely an illusion of importance, or only a case of wounded pride. The Verronkya system did not merit a war or even a skirmish. He would hold his resources in reserve for something worthy of that expenditure.

As tensioned mounted between his Empire and The Systems Commonwealth, Ztar looked to Archangel for refuge. That refuge gave him added strength and steadiness during the stress filled days and weeks. Nighttime was for escape and pleasure instead of tactics and maneuverings.

On those days when military and intelligence reports were especially disturbing and Ztar's blood boiled, Archangel calmed him. He could dip into the peace and joy he found in deep places in that mind. When Ztar felt his self control waning, Archangel kept him anchored – helped him shake off the latest provocation the Commonwealth threw at him. With Archangel, he could cast aside everything that burdened him for a few precious hours.

When did he slip from using this human to only satisfy his sexual desires to needing him? Ztar couldn't find a specific turning point. It was gradual and happened without his knowledge or intent. It had happened without his consent.

Ztar was hard pressed to remember a time when he needed anyone. His entire adult life was about using others to his own ends, especially after the genetic experiment that released his latent abilities.

The Emperor now felt periodic pangs of sadness and guilt about the human. In Archangel's mind, he had early on learned the significant events of his past. What he had been through and had endured. About the supermutant called Apocalypse, one in a line of people that had used or abused Archangel for their own gain. People he had trusted that betrayed him. Loves murdered. Those that had sought to use his wealth for their own purposes.

As beautiful as Archangel was, Ztar also discovered long ago the human did not feel that way, inside or out. Archangel believed he was a mockery of icon his body resembled. So far he had fallen from pure and flawless. Ztar sensed the self-loathing that Archangel couldn't quite admit to himself.

And these past several months, Ztar had added to that. The Emperor's desires were all that mattered at the time and the human's body is what he had wanted. Yet another person who saw only what Archangel could provide. Ztar had taken what he wanted without care as to the cost to the human.

That was changing. Ztar was changing. While he would not abnegate Archangel, Ztar did wish to make Archangel's life as comfortable as possible. The brutal sex was now a thing of the past. Ztar no longer desired it. Somewhere along the way, Archangel had doused that raging fire fueled by anger Ztar could not name or find a singular source for.

And so now Ztar found himself needing this single individual so much so that it frightened him. But he found that fear almost comforting. He believed Archangel was good for him. No one else, not one in his long line of bedmates, had ever come close to being that for Ztar. That was new and he welcomed it.

###

Warren sat on the edge of a sheer cliff that rose several thousand feet above the valley floor below. The wind that whipped at him was hot even at that height. Jxpia was a dry, desolate world. Rusty-red sand dunes and jagged outcroppings stretched as far as Warren's remarkable eyesight could see. Bare-rock mountains jutted up on the opposite side of the valley, rising many thousands of feet. Dust devils swirled in several spots, kicking up red sand as they danced across the relatively flat valley terrain. Even the air had a rusty haze. 'Kinda like Mars,' he mused.

From his perch, the world beneath looked barren and lifeless. But life was here in its smaller forms, Ztar had said. "It is the best I can do right now," Ztar had further explained when Warren said he needed some airtime. At least Ztar had ordered Mi-Lartui to stop. The Emperor seemed to be more willing to accommodate Warren these past weeks.

Ztar had not accompanied him on this planet-side trip as was his custom. Warren had up to five standard hours to savor his temporary freedom with no one watching. The shuttle pilots remained inside the craft, not wanting to endure the blowing sands. There was less of it the higher he flew, but sand still lightly coated any exposed skin as he sweated, permeated his hair, and got into his ears and his eyes. Warren would be surprised if it hadn't penetrated his suit. It was going to be a real bitch to get out of the feathers, but flying was worth the price. Jxpai's strong winds, heat, and thin air had proven challenging, but he wasn't complaining. The added exertion actually felt good, but he needed a breather and the high perch above the valley was just the place.

As he cooled down as much as the heat would allow, Warren contemplated the subtle changes he was seeing in the Turzent Emperor. While tension still seemed to have a hold on Ztar, it was not translating into his interactions with Warren. In fact, the Emperor was treating Warren with consideration. He still got what he wanted from Warren, but the angry, brutal side had nearly disappeared.

'Be grateful for small favors,' Warren told himself. He held out no hope that Ztar would release him anytime soon, so for now he'd take whatever improved treatment he could get. Then he let thoughts of Ztar pass.

Sitting on the edge of an alien landscape, life back on Earth felt like a lifetime ago. Closing his eyes, he brought up images of the faces and places he cared about most. It was painful, but Warren felt he needed to remember what they looked like, fearing he would forget as time passed. Images congealed of Charles, Hank, Scott, and the others that were god-only-knows how many light-years away. In his mind, he walked through his mansion, the Colorado aerie, the penthouse, and the X-mansion.

Then his imaginings broadened and he remembered Earth itself. All the places he'd been to; places he knew well, and places he had only seen briefly. He focused on the one spot he loved the most, his aerie. Nestled high in the Rockies, surrounded by wilderness and open skies. He soared with the eagles there. It was his special retreat – his sanctuary. Or at least it was. He pushed the reminiscing aside when the memories became too hurtful. 'Don't dwell.'

Ztar intruded into his contemplations once again. The man who had taken all those things from him. The man Warren hated more than he felt it was possible to hate. The man he had to lie willingly beneath each night, talk to civilly, obey without protest – or without a lot of protest, anyway. Warren did voice his discontent on a few occasions, but at the time it seemed to have gotten him nowhere. Yet now in hindsight, Ztar had ever so slowly eased up. Whether that was due to anything Warren had said or done, or because of Sukja's supposed influence, or from some change Ztar himself initiated, Warren could not know. In a life where he had nothing and could expect little, Warren would take the change in Ztar gladly.

Perhaps if he accepted the changes with gratitude, Ztar would continue to soften. With no other options, perhaps this was the only path that had any hope of leading to his ultimate release. 'The chances are remote, flyboy, practically nil, but anything is possible,' he encouraged himself. 'Where there's life, there's hope – remember that.'

Still, accepting anything about Ztar with gratitude would be difficult, if not impossible. 'Worth a try, though. But it will be between me and I only. Hell could freeze over and shatter before I think or say even one word of thanks to that bastard!' Warren gave himself that much latitude.

With that spark of anger, he hurtled himself off the cliff and into the hot, dry air of Jxpai. There was still another couple hours of freedom to enjoy.

###


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Body, Mind, and Soul**

What starts an interstellar war? A significant, isolated event? Or is it a delayed reaction to a series of events that long ago set the mechanisms of war into motion?

In the case of the war declared by the Commonwealth upon the Empire, the final event was Ztar's refusal to surrender the Earth System. The Turzent Empire was at war with the Systems Commonwealth over a pre-FTL planet that had little to offer. The nearby warp space portal had questionable benefits; its potential not yet determined. Bottom line, when Ztar claimed the Earth System and refused to release it, he gave the Commonwealth their final excuse.

Ztar didn't want war. He had sent his diplomats to the Commonwealth only to be turned away at the door. He invited Commonwealth diplomats to his homeworld for negotiations, only to have the invitation politely declined. Surrender Earth System – those were the terms. Somehow the Commonwealth had finally discovered his line in the sand and they crossed it. Ztar knew he was being manipulated, but that knowledge would not change his decision.

He would not turn over Archangel's homeworld to the Commonwealth for many reasons. He would no longer be played like a chess piece by the Commonwealth. He would not be poked, prodded, or tested by them any more. He would not be treated like a savage at the door of the civilized as were his diplomats. He would not have his FTL advancement stolen from him and sit idly by. The Commonwealth would pay for their long list of offenses against his Empire – against him.

So the Commonwealth had its rallying point for war. And the little backwater world called Earth had no idea that it was the final domino to fall in a series of events that led to interstellar war.

###

Whatever it was, Warren knew it was bad just from the look on Ztar's face as he entered Warren's chambers. Ztar went directly to the sitting area. Warren joined him.

"There is something you need to know, my Archangel, though it pains me to have to tell you," Ztar's voice was filled with sadness.

Warren's heart was in his throat.

"Our lives will be changing. I can no longer guarantee side trips for your benefit and you have a right to know why. The Empire is at war with the Commonwealth." Ztar watched Archangel's face as the words sunk in.

Warren's heart sank. War! The cost in lives, suffering, resources, and emotional toll would be incalculable.

Ztar went on to share the barest details with Warren, wishing to preserve what he could of his sanctuary.

"As for the side trips, I am truly sorry, my Archangel. I will do what I can when I can – that is all I am able to promise you."

"There was no way to prevent this?"

"The Commonwealth declared war and left me with few alternatives. At present, I see no option but to respond. This is not a war of my choosing – they forced it upon me. I assure you, at every opportunity I will seek to end it by diplomacy. This war is not justified. It was manipulated into being for reasons as yet unknown. Regardless of the reason, I will defend my Empire at all costs." Ztar looked and sounded exhausted.

"I am sorry, Ztar," and Warren meant it. Then, "What of Earth?"

"I cannot say. Earth is at the extreme limits of Turzent space. That is a difficult position to hold. We have already sent word to the Shi'ar Empire through your Charles Xavier. We hope they will assist your world should it come to that. If we lose that sector of space, your world will need to decide whether to become part of the Commonwealth or remain independent and neutral with the protection of the Shi'ar."

"That's why Sukja was asking me questions about Earth's relationship with the Shi'ar!" It was coming together now.

Ztar nodded. "I am doing what I can to protect your homeworld."

Warren stood up. "You look like you could use a drink." When Ztar did not object, Warren poured two glasses of Dison liqueur.

###

Time dragged endlessly. Ztar's cruiser moved constantly, never to sit long enough to become an easy target. The Mi-Lartui darted from one skirmish to another, from hot spot to hot spot, one rendezvous to the next. It had been weeks since Warren's last foray into the sky and the need was constant. His soul would not let him forgot it was being neglected. The aching need tugged and pulled and ate at him relentlessly.

From beneath the Emperor, he looked into the deep brown eyes that were still smoldering with the heat of the desire he had just quenched for Ztar. But now _his_ desire needed attention, and it had nothing to do with sex.

"Ztar, can we stop? I-I need to get out of here for a while," Warren prayed Ztar would allow it this time. Each of the previous times he'd asked since war began, Ztar had regretfully denied his request.

Ztar gently stroked the outstretched wing. He felt the intense longing through their connection – it was so great! Archangel's face reflected the hope that he would relieve it. Ztar hated the words that came next.

"I'm sorry, my Archangel," his voice barely above a whisper. "We're heading to the Phagiulu System and we can't delay. Things go badly there."

Warren closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He fought back the emotional pain that had manifested to actual physical pain. His wings ached continuously in the need to fly. Maybe if Ztar better understood. He was not above begging at this point. Reopening his eyes, he looked again into Ztar's.

"P-please, Ztar! I beg you. Just a couple hours – an hour even! I'm going crazy – we need to stop, _please_! Don't you understand?" Warren was nearly in tears. Just an hour or two? Was it too much to ask?

The pain in Archangel's voice and what he felt through the empathic connection tore Ztar's heart open. His companion was so desperate. But Ztar could do little right now to ease the anguish.

"I do understand. I feel your need," Ztar replied, brushing his hand across Archangel's forehead. "If only it would be only an hour or two. There no suitable planets between here and Phagiulu. We'd have to divert at least two days to find such a world. We don't have even a few hours." Ztar sat up and leaned back against the headboard and watched as his companion rise up to face him.

"Maybe when we get to Phagiulu. When things are under control there again." Warren said desperately clinging to hope.

"Phagiulu is a resource system, staffed by mining and support crews in controlled habitats. The system has no atmospheric planets."

Warren's hope was crushed. Just like it had been crushed so many times these past agonizing weeks. 'Can't live like this anymore! Losing my mind!' He let the tears come not caring if Ztar saw – he was the cause of them. Him and the damn war. Why had the heavens plotted against him to not only cause his enslavement to an alien emperor, but to orchestrate this slow torture?

Ztar pulled Archangel into his arms and held him close. "Forgive me, my Archangel! Please don't cry. We'll stop as soon as I can manage it, I promise you. Just hold on!" he vowed into the golden hair. He prayed it was a promise he could keep.

###

Ztar's on-scene commander commed a situation report regularly to the Mi-Lartui as the Emperor and his contingent raced to the Phagiulu System. When those reports stopped, Ztar feared his forces were in dire trouble.

The resource system was important. Rich in many of the raw materials required for everything from high-tech devices to everyday household products, it helped sustain the basis of modern living. More importantly, Phagiulu System held deep deposits of an element that when blended with other ingredients made an incredibly strong but light-weight metal used to build and repair starship hulls.

Ztar would not let the Commonwealth have Phagiulu. With communications from Commander Jryzkenri having ceased, the Emperor feared the worst. The Commander was a battled-hardened, skilled leader. It was why Ztar and his top general had entrusted that sector of space to Jryzkenri. Not only did Sector 10 include Phagiulu System, but its neighbor was the even more critical Sector 11, Zramynian System.

As soon as word was received that Phagiulu was under attack, the military dispatched reinforcements, but would they arrive in time? Jryzkenri's communications indicated that the Commonwealth arrived with a fleet and were waging a fierce offensive. While Imperial forces were significant, they were split between defending the surface operations as well as the general sector. Push come to shove, Jryzkenri was ordered to sacrifice planet-side installations to hold the sector. Those facilities could be rebuilt. But if the sector was lost, then a key military stepping stone would be gained by the Commonwealth. Jryzkenri's last communication indicated he was pulling his forces from surface defense.

Ztar had anticipated the Commonwealth may try coming in the side door to Zramynia and he had been proven right. Now with his cruiser heading to the battle line, Ztar moved the chess pieces of strategy in his mind. The line would be drawn at Phagiulu.

In his tactical operations room off the bridge, he brought up the last holo-image replay of the battle sent by Commander Jryzkenri. Ztar saw only one defensive move he would have done differently. But this information was hours old. What was happening now? Were communications simply being blocked or had Jryzkenri already lost the battle?

"Damn the gods!" Ztar said in exasperation to the outdated holo-image and his ship's captain.

Mi-Lartui's skipper stood across the table from the Emperor. Ztar looked over at his Captain. Yels was full-blooded Turzent, same as Ztar. In fact, they came from the same homeworld in the Ta'oc System. While the captain stood more than a head shorter than Ztar, he was an imposing figure. Turzents were a tough breed and it showed in their physique. Nature provided them with a powerful body that could take a lot of abuse and keep going. With redundant vital organs and a skeletal structure that would not easily break, they were designed to be warriors. The history of the Ta'oc System worlds reflected that design – a past filled with war and conquest, emperors and challengers. Now that history included its greatest conqueror of all – Ztar. And that greatest conqueror faced his greatest challenger – The Systems Commonwealth.

"Still no word from Commander Jryzkenri?" he asked, but knew if there had been, he would have been told instantly.

"No, sir."

Ztar hated being blind. The Commonwealth had taken out the nearby sensor stations early in their offensive. The one that remained was too far away to provide anything but non-specific readings of weapons fire.

Ztar was still far outside of his telepathic range and would be until they entered the Phagiulu System. Unlike what some believed or speculated, telepathy had its distance limits. Ztar had never revealed his exact range to anyone, preferring to keep that information secret. If the commander was still alive, Ztar may be able to establish contact after entering the system. Even knowing Jryzkenri's unique mental signature, it would be a stretch for Ztar unless they get closer to the fighting than Yels was likely going to feel comfortable doing.

"Bring up sector sensors."

Yels added the sensor readings to the holo-image. The image now displayed weapons fire the remote sensor was recording. Pinpricks of light revealed the locations of weapons hits and thus ships. Skirmishes were scattered in three areas in the system, each a strategic point. Whether it was Jryzkenri in command or someone else, they were defending exactly the positions Ztar would choose.

"Our ETA?"

"14.25," Yels replied. The arrival time had not changed since Ztar last asked. It was more a question from habit than from believing the ETA would have changed. Space travel was an exact science and unless something interrupted your flight, times were precise.

It was 12.5 now, the time reinforcements were due to arrive. They should start to see additional weapons fire at any time.

"By the Gods, I want to be there!" Ztar said mostly to himself.

"Understood, my Emperor. We will be soon," Yels responded. Other than Ztar's tactical input, there was little left to be done on the Mi-Lartui. She and her crew stood battle ready and prepared to defend their empire and her ruler. However, the simple fact that she was the Imperial cruiser meant the chances of her coming even close to the battle were remote. Mi-Lartui would watch from a relatively safe distance, surrounded by the finest escort ships the Empire offered. The mere presence of their Emperor would hopefully inspire those that were putting their lives on the line to protect the system. Ztar would observe and provide input only if he saw his commanders making a mistake in judgment or strategy.

Ztar prided himself in selecting the finest, most capable individuals to hold key positions in his military. He trusted them to do their jobs well and he stayed out of their way so they could do just that. That leadership style served him well. Not only did he gain from their competency and expertise, but by giving them the authority and autonomy to do their jobs, he gained their loyalty and trust.

He never promoted anyone who did not keep the bigger picture in mind at all times. Short-term gains at the price of long-term goals were unacceptable. In fact, Ztar often employed the opposite – short-term losses in favor of long-term benefits. That was his philosophy and it worked on many levels.

Reckless decisions based on injured personal pride were also never tolerated – not in Ztar himself or those who reported to him. The Empire and its people came first and foremost. That steadiness devoid of prideful, knee-jerk reactions had kept him from a much sooner war with the Commonwealth, in spite of their prodding and maneuvering. And finally the Commonwealth found themselves having to do what they failed to goad Ztar into doing – declaring war.

Yet in the end, despite all Ztar's attempts to avoid war, it was upon him. This was its first significant battle and he wanted to be there. Retention of Phagiulu System was important in the long-term as a buffer to the strategically important Zramynian System. All the skirmishes and scuffles to date were little more than exercises on both sides to assess capabilities and battle styles. No chunks of space of critical value had been at risk.

'Let the games of war begin in earnest,' he thought to himself as he dismissed Yels to return to the bridge. He watched as additional pinpricks of light began lighting up the holo-image. Imperial reinforcements were likely on the scene. Of course, the additional pinpricks could mean more Commonwealth forces had arrived as well. Likely no communications would come until his forces took out whatever was disrupting communications, and that was almost certainly the Commonwealth battle carrier.

Ztar sat quietly, playing out various scenarios in his mind from what he knew of the battle from the image and previous messages from Jryzkenri. Moving the chess pieces in his mind, he tried many defensive and offensive maneuvers, discarding those that failed, keeping those with promise. Yet his strategizing was of little value other than to occupy his mind as his information was minimal and most of it hours old.

At 13:00, Ztar emerged from tactical ops. "I will return by 14:15," he told the Captain, stepping into the elevator. One deck down, he headed to Sukja's chambers.

Sukja knew Ztar was tense the moment the Emperor passed through the doorway. "My Emperor," he greeted, fearing that the news from Phagiulu was not good.

"We've lost contact with our forces in Phagiulu System. Until either communication is restored or we get within sensor range, we do not know what we'll be facing. You should be prepared."

Sukja knew the Mi-Lartui would not enter into battle unless there was no choice or she was attacked directly. The Emperor was too valuable to risk without overwhelming cause. Knowing his Emperor, though, Sukja wondered if he'd force the Captain Yels to engage the enemy. Ztar was as skilled a warrior as he was a tactician. The lure of battle may be too strong to resist.

"What is Mi-Lartui's role?" Sukja inquired with some trepidation.

Ztar walked to the windows and stared out. Reaching out into the vastness with his mind, he felt nothing – no life, no minds. The emptiness was soothing to his mind. Space was so vast, it humbled him. He felt small and insignificant against it.

"I will not risk this ship or her crew needlessly no matter how much I wish to…kick butt as Archangel would put it." Ztar smiled at that. He'd pulled that phrase from the human's mind quite some time ago, liked it, and held it for an appropriate moment. And kick butt was exactly what he wanted to do right now to the Commonwealth.

"You should go to Archangel, my Emperor, before we arrive," Sukja advised, changing the subject. "Mi-Lartui is ready for whatever comes. There is nothing left to do before we reach Phagiulu."

Ztar turned to Sukja. He was suggesting self-indulgence at this time? That surprised him.

"We will live to see another day, Sukja. Do not worry."

"I do not, my Emperor. But Archangel needs to know what is happening. You keep him very isolated and uninformed. Perhaps you should ease his tension." And if more happened than talking, Sukja felt that would be good, too.

Ztar nodded, glad he had clarified. "I told him where we were headed and that things go badly, but nothing more. That may not have been the best way to leave things." Ztar left the windows and moved toward his attendant. He admired Sukja more with each passing year. Ztar was the empath, but it was Sukja who seemed better attuned to Archangel's mental state.

"He understands battles and fighting and that no matter how much we plan to stay out of the fighting, there are no guarantees. Imagine yourself in his place for a moment. Archangel is alone far from home in an alien world that is at war. His anxiety is already high. And now we are approaching the battle lines in a fight that is not his."

There was so much more Sukja could have said, but he wanted Ztar to do the thinking from Archangel's perspective. So he left much unsaid. If Ztar indeed wanted the human as more than a simple bedmate, he needed to take his companion into account as a matter of course. Unfortunately, the Emperor was very much out of practice in that area.

"You are right, Sukja. I should have thought of that myself," Ztar said in displeasure with himself. Once Sukja said it, Archangel's plight was so obvious. Why hadn't he realized that himself? Telepathy would have likely revealed what Sukja had just explained, but Ztar hadn't been reading Archangel except through the empathic connection. Once again, the limitations of empathy were made evident. And Ztar had become so used to Archangel's high baseline anxiety that he tended not to notice it any more unless it rose dramatically. Much of that angst was from Archangel's stress from confinement and the rest from his general circumstances.

The telepath refocused on the empathic connection and it revealed Archangel's anxiety level indeed elevated from what Ztar could remember from a couple days ago. So much constant strain on his Archangel and so little Ztar could do to lessen it and still hold onto his companion.

"Thank you, Sukja," Ztar expressed as he left Sukja's chambers and headed directly to Archangel.

###

Warren knew from Officer de'Letnoir that they would be arriving at Phagiulu at 14:25, but de'Letnoir had no other information, at least not that he would share. Now it was nearly 13:00 and shortly the Mi-Lartui would be entering a star system where "things go badly" according to Ztar late last night.

What would they find? Would Mi-Lartui enter the fight, or would the military not risk their Emperor and keep the cruiser and her escorts out of harm's way? Warren could image very few conditions in which the Turzent military would intentionally bring the Mi-Lartui into battle. But what if Mi-Lartui was ambushed? If Warren was the Commonwealth and he detected the Emperor's cruiser, he'd definitely make it a target if at all possible. Surely there were escape pods on Ztar's ship, but where? God, how he hated being kept in the dark! And then there was the big question. If the unthinkable happened and the Mi-Lartui was mortally wounded, would Warren even care enough to try to escape the dying ship? Many questions with no answers.

In the midst of his contemplations from his usual perch by the windows, the door chime sounded. Likely Sukja had come calling. "Enter," he responded, turning toward the entrance. Perhaps the attendant would answer some questions.

"Ztar?!" Warren asked in surprise as the Emperor walked in. "Shouldn't you be on the bridge?"

He smiled at his companion. "Mi-Lartui is ready for whatever awaits us at Phagiulu. I'm just in the way on the bridge right now." Ztar loved the look of surprise on Archangel's face. It wasn't often he saw anything other than sadness there.

Humor. It was a rare thing from Ztar and when it happened, it always had an unnerving affect on Warren. 'So what does Ztar want? A little action before battle?' he thought grimly.

When Archangel remained silent, Ztar approached the human who was tucked into the corner of the window bench. Archangel spent far too much time in that corner. He looked lost and small. Ztar sat down next to the human.

"I wanted to talk about what we might expect when we reach Phagiulu."

Warren was now very interested in what Ztar had to say.

"We've lost communications with our ships there. Long-range sensors do tell us the fighting continues, but little else. As we get closer, though, we'll get better data. When we arrive, Mi-Lartui will stay well away from the battle and at the first sign of possible attack on her, we will to go FTL. You should not worry about your safety."

Warren was surprised to say the least. Ztar was actually concerned that he was worried? Or was this just another attempt to soften him to the Emperor? If that was it, it wouldn't work. Yet the body language suggested Ztar was sincere.

"I had no doubts that your military would not risk you, Ztar. That would not be logical for many reasons," he replied stiffly.

Ztar did not let the coolness of the reply faze him. "Yet as a seasoned warrior, you understand the unexpected happens. Battles can turn in a moment. Should this ship be compromised, access to the escape pod is at the end of the hall passed Sukja's chambers. If the abandon ship command is issued, the pod door will open automatically. There's also a manual override that will respond to your bio-sig if the door fails to open on its own. The pod holds four people – you, Sukja, me, and a guard. No one else is to use that pod. Do not release the pod until the three of us are inside. The guard is optional. If we are attacked, I'll do my best to stay in telepathic contact with you and Sukja. Should Sukja and I be killed or unable to reach the pod, then you are free to go on your own. Do you have any questions?"

"Sounds simple enough," Warren answered. 'If I decide to use it that is. Going down with the ship sounds tempting…'

Melancholy permeated the empathic link and it concerned Ztar. In an ever so light telepathic touch, he picked up on Archangel's contemplation of not leaving a dying ship. Would the human actually take death over life if faced with the choice? He looked into the crystalline-blue eyes. He knew the confinement was nearly more than Archangel could bear and he would do whatever he could to relieve the human's need for the open skies just as soon as it was possible. In the meantime, though, there was little Ztar could do in that regard.

"Archangel, when this battle is over – win or lose – we will find a planet where you can fly free. I vow that to you." Ztar ran his fingers through the long, golden waves. He liked that Archangel's hair had grown long. It fit him. Just like the Esserru from Turzent fables. Golden locks tumbling to the shoulders, wings of glistening white, a body tall and lean. The description fit both beings – Archangel and Esserru. Could there possibly be some connection? Some of the things Archangel had done suggested Esserru power. The energy during their special encounters and how he was changing Ztar in spite of himself. Could it be possible…?

Ztar brought himself out of his reverie and gazed at the beautiful being sitting before him. Fire ignited without warning and it flashed through his body. Gripped with desire, he wanted Archangel then and there. Would there ever come a time when Archangel did not set him on fire? Ztar prayed he would not live to see the day.

Warren saw the spark in Ztar's eyes. 'Jesus Christ, of all the times!' What was it about him that did that to Ztar? He tensed in anticipation of what was likely to follow.

Ztar immediately sensed Archangel's apprehension. It pained him more each passing day that Archangel hated their time together. If only the gods would see fit to cause Archangel to at least not loath him so. It was only when they were together and Ztar built heat in the human and suppressed his aversions that Ztar got a taste of what it might be like if Archangel freely gave himself to Ztar. No threats, no coercion forcing him, but to come to him as a willing, eager bedmate. Ztar rested his hand on the back of Archangel's head and pulled him close.

"Shouldn't you be getting to the bridge?" Archangel asked, his voice almost scolding.

"Not quite yet, my Archangel," he breathed into the human's ear. "You are so beautiful! So perfect!"

'So beautiful that it landed me in your bed. That's suppose to make me feel good?' Warren thought to himself, half hoping Ztar was reading him. But either Ztar wasn't or he ignored the thought as all that came next was Ztar's mouth on his. Warren wanted to pull away, but why bother? Ztar always got what he wanted.

Ztar ran his hands behind and up Archangel's back to draw him in and took the kiss deep and slow. He wanted to savor every sensation.

As soon as Ztar came up for air, Warren spoke. "Not here," was all he said. Ztar knew that Warren held the window seat as sacred and not to be violated by the Emperor.

Ztar made a decision at those two words. "Not here and not now. My people are dying right now in battle at Phagiulu. It would be disrespectful." He sighed and rose. "We arrive at 14:25. Remain in your chambers."

Warren watched in surprise as Ztar exited his chambers. The man did have some sense of propriety after all.

###

Mi-Lartui dropped out of FTL beyond the last planet, a safe distance from the fighting. The ship's sensors immediately pumped out vast amounts of information. The data was so much more complete than what they had been limited to from the remaining sector sensor. Ztar stood on the bridge and listened to the static-ridden ship-to-ship battle chatter. It was standard practice to monitor that dialogue during the combat.

"The Remwarge is still fighting, Captain," the crewmember stationed at tactical announced. "Short-range communication is available, but long-range is blocked."

Ztar breathed a sigh of relief. If Jryzkenri's cruiser was intact, the Commander himself should also be alive.

"Attempt to inform Commander Jryzkenri on a secure channel that we have arrived. Failing that, use ship-to-ship – the Commonwealth likely already knows we're here. Transfer all sensor readings and communications into TO," Ztar commanded and exited the bridge through the side door.

The holo-image popped up as Ztar entered the tactical operations room. The Phagiulu System was suspended in the air before him. Now he could see his forces and Commonwealth ships in three-dimensions, real-time imaging. Each ship was tagged with its moniker and Remwarge was also color-coded as the command ship.

Ztar closed his eyes and reached out hoping to find Jryzkenri. Even though they were technically within the star system, the distance was still very great. Mi-Lartui sat beyond the last planet and the battle was taking place much closer to the system's center. Connecting with the Commander would be a huge reach for Ztar. The telepath narrowed his focus to the direction where the Remwarge was relative to the Mi-Lartui. Farther and farther he stretched his consciousness. Suddenly, he felt the brush of many minds. The Remwarge? He couldn't be sure. Ztar caught mental glimpses of determination, anxiety, fear, courage, and more. Those were emotions only, no thoughts. He was just too far away for anything more and he ended his attempt when his head began to throb.

'Will have to make do with standard communications,' he told himself with some disappointment. It would have been so much easier if he'd been able to establish telepathic communication with his commander.

Ztar counted ten Imperial and eight Commonwealth ships still fighting. But the Commonwealth forces included a battle carrier. That was what was likely blocking long-range communications as it took a ship with a lot of power to do that on a system scale. Once the Commonwealth took out the system sensors, blocking long-range transmissions would be fairly straightforward with the carrier.

Sensors also indicated planet-side fighting was still occurring at the primary mining facility on the planet for which the system was named. That was the largest operation and presented itself as the best target. Ztar was surprised that the facility hadn't yet fallen. Jryzkenri's last transmission indicated he was withdrawing from Phagiulu.

Ztar tapped on the control panel embedded in the tactical table. Ships status reports scrolled down the viewscreen. Six Imperial ships drifted without power and were out of the fight. Of his ten ships still in the fight, three were significantly damaged and the rest in various states of dysfunction. The Remwarge, being the biggest and most robust, had held up best, though her shields were precariously weak. At this moment, she was taking the brunt of the attack from the Commonwealth. Fighters on both sides were running their strafing missions and engaging in fighter-to-fighter battles.

Although they held a two-ship advantage over the Commonwealth, it wasn't the number of ships, it was their capabilities. And right now, the Commonwealth outgunned and outpowered the Empire. Unless something happened soon, the Commonwealth could lose the Phagiuli System.

From the composition of his fleet, Ztar surmised that Jryzkenri had chosen maneuverability over raw power. The Commonwealth had chosen otherwise and brought in a battle carrier. Jryzkenri was focusing much of his resources on weakening the carrier's defenses one layer at a time, but that tactic usually meant high casualties. Yet if effective, the lost of the carrier would be a major blow to the enemy. In Ztar's opinion, Imperial losses would be too great to succeed. At this point, Jryzkenri had few options but to continue his tactic unless he hadn't yet revealed all his strategy.

Ztar would not attempt to communicate with Jryzkenri at the moment. Let him focus on what he was doing. Ztar had every confidence in his commander, but that didn't mean Ztar couldn't assist in other ways.

"Captain," Ztar said into the air; the communication system would direct his voice to the bridge on the other side of the door.

"Yes, my Emperor."

"Can we establish any communications with Phagiulu? Preferably the Xath complex."

"Working," was all the Captain said. That meant the attempt was being made. Ztar waited patiently as silence continued for what seemed like a very long time.

Finally, the Captain's voice came over the comm. "We have science technician DeliamPar on line. He's located in the Xath metallurgy building."

"Greetings, DeliamPar. This is your Emperor. How are you holding up?" Ztar asked to put the man at ease.

There was a pause before a nervous voice filled the air of the TO. "As good as can be expected, my Emperor! The fighting is nearby – I can hear the gunfire."

Science technicians are not soldiers. Ztar knew that this must be a frightening experience for the man. "Help is close by. The Commonwealth will be defeated."

"Yes, Emperor. Knowing you're here…it means a lot!"

Ztar smiled. This man was a supporter – he would be much easier to work with. "DeliamPar, there's something I need you to do. Something important that will make a difference in this battle. Are you willing and able to assist?"

Another pause. "Yes, my Emperor!" the voice was enthusiastic. "Whatever you need – just ask!"

Ztar was pleased.

###

Warren strained to see anything of the fighting from his windows, but the battle was likely taking place far from their position. Now that war was at their feet, it was much more real. Until now, it seemed distance and disconnected from his reality. He was suddenly much more concerned about Earth. Would the Commonwealth attack Earth? Claim her as their own? Worst case scenarios ran through his mind. Don't let Earth be lost now after all he sacrificed over the past months!

###

As Ztar watched the holo display, he extrapolated various scenarios based on the moves being played out before him. The ships represented in the image moved in concert with one another in the dance of battle. It was almost mesmerizing. He had to remind himself that each icon represented hundreds of lives. People who wanted to see loved ones again, to hug their children and parents and friends. People who were potentially making the ultimate sacrifice to safeguard the future of those loved ones.

Ztar's thoughts turned to Archangel. The human who sat alone in his chambers was also far from everyone he knew and cared about. But he wasn't here to fight for the Empire. He had no desire to even be part of the Empire. If Ztar hadn't come along, Archangel would be safe on his homeworld, blissfully unaware of the war. Ztar experienced pangs of remorse and sadness. He made a decision.

He reached out with his mind. 'Archangel, please come to the bridge.'

Archangel jumped at Ztar's thought in his head. 'Huh?'

'Come to the bridge. I want you to join me.'

'What the hell?' Surprise and concern were blended in the empathic connection.

'Please come,' Ztar requested again softly and he left Archangel's mind.

"Captain Yels," he then spoke to the comm.

"Yes, Emperor."

"Grant Archangel bridge clearance."

"Emperor?!" the voice reflected great surprise.

Ztar imagined the raise eyebrows at the request. This would be a first.

"Immediately."

"Yes, my Emperor."

A few minutes later, a very puzzled Archangel exited the elevator and stepped onto the bridge. Ztar was waiting.

Warren took in the bridge quickly. Smaller than he had imagined, it was full of display screens and control panels. He counted six people seated at various stations. One person was standing – the Captain? The man was true Turzent – Ztar's species.

"This way," Ztar summoned from a side door.

All eyes followed Warren as he moved across the edge of the bridge to where Ztar had disappeared. From the looks and body language, this was highly irregular to the bridge crew. What was Ztar up to?

As Warren entered, his eyes immediately locked onto the holo-image. A planetary system was clearly displayed and Warren knew it could only be the Phagiulu system.

"This is the tactical operations room. The image is Phagiulu system," Ztar explained from the side of the table situated in the center of the room. "Our position is shown here," he continued, pointing to a hologram icon representing the Mi-Lartui. "Imperial ships are shown with the ID tags. All others are Commonwealth. The Remwarge is our battle command ship and Jryzkenri our battle commander. Remwarge is tagged in red."

Warren watched as the icons moved and tiny pinpricks of light twinkled around the ships. "Weapons fire?" he asked.

"Correct."

"You outnumber the Commonwealth."

"We do."

Warren looked more closely at one of the Commonwealth ships. One ship caught his attention.

Ztar watched Archangel study the situation. "The Commonwealth has a ship with a lot of fire power – more than all the others. Right?"

"That is their battle carrier."

"Where's yours?" Warren wondered.

"In route."

Warren walked over to the display screen embedded in the table. Now he was glad he had studied the official language of the Empire. Reading the continuously scrolling data, he could see that the Imperial ships had already taken a lot of damage.

"Things do not go well for you."

Just as Archangel said the words, a bright flash emanated from the image and Ztar heart sank. The Ennova was destroyed. She had been one of the more severely damaged. They were down to nine ships still capable of fighting, two of which were extremely vulnerable from damage.

Warren watched as the icon tag disappeared after the flash and he surmised what it meant. Glancing over at Ztar, he saw the Emperor's face fall. Yep, a ship gone.

"Sorry, Ztar," he offered.

Ztar turned his attention to the scrolling sensor readings on the status of his remaining ships. The news was not good. They were taking a beating. The Remwarge's shield were beginning to fail in sections. The Commonwealth battle carrier was closing in on Jryzkenri's position, likely hoping for the kill. The tide of battle had turned without question.

"Emperor," Yels' voice came over the comm. "We've received word that Commander Jryzkenri has been seriously injured in the last fighter run. Apparently a hole in the Remwarge's shield allowed enemy fire to reach their ops room. First Officer Elayor is now in command."

"Damn the gods!" Ztar cursed the air. They were losing; that was now clear. A decision needed to be made. Retreat now and loose the system but spare lives, or…

"My Emperor, I'm moving Mi-Lartui outside the system," Yels voice sounded strained to Warren. He wondered how many friends the captain had lost or would loose in today's battle.

"Not yet, Captain. We hold our position."

The response was delayed ever so slightly. "Yes, my Emperor."

Warren eyed Ztar. The Emperor was up to something – Warren could read it in the body language.

"Ztar, Yels is thinking the same thing we all are. The battle is lost. You should pull back to a more distant location. You have to assume the Commonwealth knows you're here. They may feel they can now spare resources to come after you."

Warren found himself slipping into battle mode despite himself. Though he'd love nothing more than to be free of Ztar even if it meant the Emperor's death, he didn't want to see the rest of the crew harmed. They had done nothing to him. Ztar should allow his captain to retreat.

Ztar stared at the holo-images. The fighting was clustered in two areas – one near Phagiulu where Remwarge and the Commonwealth battle carrier were locked in combat and the rest in the space between Phagiulu and the next planet out.

If Ztar's backup plan was going to work, the position of the battle carrier had to change. But how?

"Captain, please join me in TO," Ztar requested.

"Ztar, what are you planning?" Warren asked, but Ztar ignored the question. He seemed deep in thought.

Yels entered and Ztar motioned him to the holo-display. Ztar worked the control screen and zoomed in on the area surrounding Phagiulu. "Captain, I want you to take us here," he said pointing to a location above the planet but to the side of where the fighting was taking place.

Yels was predictably shocked, and his mouth nearly fell open as Warren watched the reaction.

"But my Emperor, that's directly into the fighting! Why? We've lost this battle. Mi-Lartui is powerful, but she's no match for the Commonwealth carrier."

"I'm well aware of the capabilities of both ships, Captain. We don't need to take out the carrier, just lure her into position."

"Into what position? My Emperor, I need to know what you're planning," Yels said firmly.

"Which is why I summoned you."

Warren listened in fascination as Ztar outlined his scheme. If it worked, Ztar would pull off quite the brilliant victory in the face of certain defeat.

###

As Ztar had explained his plan, another Imperial ship was lost. Remwarge was taking increasing damage and its captain had commed Mi-Lartui that he was thinking of retreating to fight another day. Ztar belayed that idea. He issued new instructions on ship movements and tactics as a precursor to his plan. It didn't matter if the Commonwealth intercepted his transmissions, in fact it would work to his advantage if they did.

Yels ordered the Mi-Lartui to FTL jump directly above Phagiulu. Her escort ships were to remain tucked behind the last planet in the system and not to be risked.

As soon as Mi-Lartui emerged from FTL, she let loose with two long-range cannons, aimed directly at the battle carrier. It didn't matter if they impacted or not. They were to get the carrier's attention.

Ztar and Warren stood on the bridge to one side and watched the action via what Warren could only describe as an oversized heads-up display at the front of the bridge. But the images were far more clear and detailed than any heads-up he had seen on Earth. It was like watching a holographic movie.

Ztar closed his eyes and extended his mind out to the planet below, to the Xath complex, down to the location where the science technician should now be positioned. DeliamPar had indeed found his way to the control room. Thank the gods!

'DeliamPar, this is Ztar. Do not be afraid,' Ztar telepathed as gently as he could. Despite his best effort, the technician reacted as many do at the sound of a voice in their head that wasn't their own.

"What?! W-what's going on?!" Ztar felt the man cry out loud and bring his hands up to his head.

'Be calm, technician. This is Ztar – I'm a telepath and you're hearing my voice through our mental connection.'

"Telepathy?! I don't understand. Not possible," the technician grappled with the concept. "You can hear my thoughts?"

The sense of violation was immediate. 'Only those thoughts you are thinking at this moment. Your memories are safe, DeliamPar. I will not intrude any further than what is needed to accomplish our mission. Are you ready to perform your mission?'

They didn't have time for much more mental handholding. The enemy was ripping apart Ztar's remaining ships and time was short. Ztar felt the technician gathered himself.

"Yes, my Emperor!"

'Very good. This is what I need you to do.'

While Ztar was immersed in mental conversation with the individual on the ground, the cannon fire did its job. They now firmly had the Commonwealth's attention. Fighters were heading in their direction with Imperial ships moving into their assigned positions.

The external display lit up with weapons fire as Imperial and Commonwealth forces clashed with renewed vigor. Imperial forces ever so slowly drew the fight toward Mi-Lartui. Soon the fight would be upon them and Warren braced himself.

The first hit came from a fighter. The strafe cut a path across Mi-Lartui's side shields sending mild shock waves through the ship from backlash energy. Mi-Lartui's weapons officer returned the favor and the fighter took a glancing hit but remained operational. A second fighter came in for its run, with an Imperial fighter close on its heels, firing rapidly. Just as the enemy fighter got off its first shot, the Imperial pilot got a direct hit and his target blew.

Beyond the fighters that were beginning to swarm Mi-Lartui, Commonwealth and Imperial striker ships duked it out, enemy ships attempting to get close to the best prize of all – the Emperor's ship – with Imperial fighters attempting to block. The action edged closer and closer to Phagiulu.

With Captain Yels having established command of the Imperial forces, he busily issued orders as needed to ensure each of the Empire's remaining ships followed the plan. Then the communication officer made an announcement.

"Captain, we're being hailed."

"Put it through."

A man's face filled the display. "Captain Yels, I presume," the face said.

Yels moved closer to the suspended image. "That is correct." Just then another shudder ran through the ship as she took a hit from one of the approaching Commonwealth ships.

"I am General Noitiapp and the one orchestrating your defeat here today," the general said with a sly smile. "The question is what are _you_ doing here?"

"Joining the battle obviously. You will not have Phagiulu today, General," Yels said with conviction.

Warren knew this would become a verbal dance between the General and Captain. The General was suspicious, as Warren would be.

"You take unnecessary risks with your Emperor's ship, Yels."

"Perhaps it is you who take unnecessary risks. Phagiulu will not be taken."

Warren recognized the goading. Likely so would Noitiapp. Just then, Mi-Lartui rocked from another weapons hit, and the bridge crew was busy maneuvering the ship and firing weapons, bemoaning shield strength, targets, and the like while Yels and Noitiapp calmly continued their verbal sparring. It was almost surreal to Warren.

"Perhaps your Emperor has chosen to forfeit his precious Mi-Lartui until reinforcements arrive. Sad that you and your crew will loose your lives for a fight already lost. Where is the illustrious Ztar? Tucked away on one of the escort ships you thought we wouldn't notice behind Teg?" the General asked in reference to the last planet in the system where the Mi-Lartui left her escorts.

At that, Ztar stepped up next to Yels. "I am here, General Noitiapp. In the Empire, we do not believe in hiding from our enemy," Ztar said with a devilish smile.

The General allowed a look of surprise cross his face. "Emperor, I'm impressed that you've chosen to stay with your forces. Admirable, but unfortunate. Unless of course you have a backup plan. Now what could that possibly be?" the General smiled back at Ztar.

As Warren watched, Yels melted into the background. Ztar would take it him there apparently. Yels moved over to a control station and busied himself with his predetermined assignment.

Warren ducked back into TO where the holo-image continued to display the action. Mi-Lartui had obviously become a focus. Imperial forces were making it look good, though, feigning an attempt to draw Commonwealth ships away from the Imperial cruiser. But the battle carrier hadn't yet taken the bait.

He watched in fascination as the various ships juggled for position and fired weapons. It all seemed like a video game and it was hard to remember this was real and people were being injured and dying. Yet the shock waves running through the cruiser from weapons fire were becoming more frequent and more intense, driving home that this was no computer game.

Then Warren noticed something of interest in the Commonwealth ship movements. One ship in particular seemed slightly removed from the action. Not enough to really call attention to itself, but enough that he began to wonder who or what was on that ship. Had anyone else noticed? It was a smaller ship than most of the enemy crafts, but appeared to carry quite a bit of firepower for its size. He reviewed the scanner readings of Commonwealth ship. Nothing there to indicate that ship had more than casual damage. Interesting.

Warren stepped back onto the bridge and skirted the perimeter over to Yels. "Captain, a moment please?"

Yels looked up in surprise. "I'm rather busy at this moment, companion." The Captain's voice was full of disapproval.

Warren swallowed at the Captain's very obvious attempt to put him in his place, but he ignored it and pressed forward on the strong gut instinct he had about that ship.

"My apologies, Captain, but have you noticed any unusual about the smaller Commonwealth ship – the one off to the carrier's starboard side?"

Yels scanned Warren's face, obviously deciding whether it worthwhile to check out what he asked. How much Yels knew about Warren, he had no way of knowing. When Yels brought up the scans of the referenced ship, Warren suspected that he must at least know of Warren's fighting experience to have not dismissed the question out of hand.

"It's comparable to our striker class ship in size and accompaniment. Her weaponry is heavy compared to other smaller Commonwealth ships, but she could be an upgrade," Yels said as the Mi-Lartui shook from another strong shot.

"Her movements and position are off, don't you think?" Warren queried.

The Captain reviewed a display of the ship movements. After a minute, he faced Warren. "You're right. Something's up with that ship," Yels responded just as Mi-Lartui took a hard hit that rocked the ship. Warning bells chimed.

"Captain, lower aft shields are down 20%. Minor damage on deck three," a crew member called out.

Yels then replayed the scans in fast-forward for the last hour. Over his shoulder, Warren could see that the suspect ship had indeed held back.

"I see what you mean. Either she has a timid captain or she's being held in reserve or-"

"Or she's carrying something worth protecting and trying not to look too obvious," Warren completed the thought.

"Perhaps the General is not on the carrier as it appears," the Captain speculated.

"And this smaller ship, how would she hold up against Mi-Lartui's weapons?" Warren asked.

Yels smiled. "Not so well. We far outgun her."

"I'll leave the rest to you and Ztar then," Warren finished. He had made his case and headed back toward TO. Warren refocused on the Ztar's conversation with Commonwealth general.

"If you doubt me, General, perhaps you should drop your psychic dampeners long enough for me to prove that I personally stand against you and your Commonwealth," Ztar was saying. It was no secret Ztar was telepathic – hard to keep that sort of thing from your own people let alone Commonwealth spies.

The General only smiled. "Your shields are beginning to weaken, Emperor. It will a pleasure to met you in person after we've captured your ship."

Just before Warren entered TO, Ztar cocked his head slightly. Warren darted his eyes to Yels who seemed detached. Likely they were communicating telepathically, Yels bringing Ztar up to speed.

The Captain casually walked over to weapons and quietly spoke. "Focus our cannons on this vessel, Lieutenant," he ordered. "Full power and keep hitting it."

"Yes, sir."

"Before we can meet, General, you have to catch me. I'm not easy prey!" Ztar taunted the Commonwealth battled commander.

With that, Mi-Lartui cannons fired with everything she had at the targeted ship.

As soon as the weapons fire starting hitting the small ship, it became readily apparent the General was not on board as he remained still in his chair. Ztar continued his diversionary tactics while the Mi-Lartui crew did their job to protect his ship and crew from the increasing attacks breaking through the line of Imperial ships and fighters.

Watching the holo-image revealed the battle edged steadily closer to Phagiulu. At the same time, the red pinpoint on the planet's surface spun steadily toward the battlefield. The next hit the Mi-Lartui took caused Warren to grab the edge of the table. More warning chimes. Controlled but urgent voices filled the bridge. The enemy was obviously making inroads through Mi-Lartui's defenses.

Mi-Lartui's weapons continued to track the target ship. Warren watched the scanner readings – the small ship was now in grave danger. He saw her attempt to evade the cannon fire, but she wasn't maneuvering like she should. 'Main engines out?' Warren wondered. Suddenly, the readings flashed that her forward shields were gone and immediately after came a cascade of damage readings. And still Mi-Lartui continued firing.

Then as suddenly as the attack on the small ship began, it was over in a flash of light. The ship was destroyed. Warren guessed it took less than two minutes. But at what price to the Mi-Lartui? While her most powerful weapons trained on the little ship, Commonwealth forces moved in much closer.

Warren moved to the TO doorway to see if the General reacted at all to the destruction of the vessel. Just as Warren came into viewing position, a crew member leaned over the General and spoke near his ear. The look on the General's face quickly revealed they had destroyed no ordinary target. At first Noitiapp looked incredulous. Then Warren could actually see the General shudder. His face went from disbelief to rage in an instant.

"Damn you Ztar!" the General roared as he stood and approached whatever projected his image. "You goddamn imperial bastard! You killed my son! My _son_!" the deep voice bellowed at full volume.

Warren thought the General might blow a blood vessel – he was rage incarnate. For a moment Warren felt sorry for the General's loss, but then how many Imperial sons and daughters had they already killed in the war they started?

Ztar was unfazed by the General's outcry. "Casualties are to be expected, General. Perhaps you and your leaders should have considered that when you declared war," Ztar said without emotion.

The General loomed into the projection. "You will pay dearly for this, Ztar!" and the image went blank.

Ztar turned to the Captain, who was at the weapons station. "I think we may see the carrier move now," he said with a wicked grin.

After a few moments, the weapons officer spoke. "That's affirmative, the carrier is now moving toward our position."

Ztar's eyes locked with Warren's. Warm feelings emanated from the Emperor through a non-verbal telepathic link.

"Thank you, Archangel. I understand from Captain Yels it was you who noticed the suspicious nature of that ship." Then Ztar turned to the bridge crew. "Now let's see if we can get that behemoth of a ship into position for a little surprise!"

Just then Mi-Lartui rocked violently. Warren beat his wings once to halt his forward fall toward the bridge deck. 'Yikes!'

"Cannon shot from battle carrier! Damage reports from decks three and four!" a crew declared.

The warning chimes took on a more urgent tone. Warren guessed that meant things were getting worse. He made his way over to the holo-image as Mi-Lartui continued to rock from impacts. A bright flash indicated another ship lost. It appeared, too, that as the carrier approached their position, her guns blazed at anything in her path.

'I think Ztar's plan better work!' Warren thought to himself. 'That's one vengeful general heading our way!'

Ztar appeared behind Warren without warning. "The trap is laid, now it needs to be sprung," he said to Warren.

Ztar closed his eyes. Warren surmised he was in mental contact with their man on the ground.

Ztar reached down to the Xath complex to the single mind that would decide the final outcome of this battle. The controls that technician stood in front of were for a mothballed planetary defense weapon. The very weapon Ztar had ordered refurbished and then put back into de-active mode many months ago when it appeared war may be a possibility. Now that weapon, a incredibly powerful surface to space cannon, sitting idle and powered down, may very well be the turning point in the battle.

Earlier, Ztar had telepathically walked DeliamPar through programming of the targeting system off-line, careful not to bring the weapon on line. That would have given away everything to Commonwealth sensors.

The weapon was set for a conical energy spread, which would take out or cripple nearly anything in its path. But that path was relatively narrow and at this moment, still not in position relative to the battle raging above the planet. And the weapon could not be activated to fire until the last possible moment. Thankfully, bringing the large weapon on line was a fairly straightforward and quick process once the access codes were inputted. That's where they were at that moment – the control panel awaiting access code entry. The technician stood at the ready to enter that code.

'DeliamPar, are you ready?'

'Yes, Emperor!'

Ztar could feel the tension in the young technician's mind. 'You will perform well, I have no doubts,' he reassured.

'Yes, Emperor.'

Warren refocused on the battled chatter he had almost tuned out. The voices and commands had taken on a new urgency. Voices layered over voices as fighters and ships exchanged information in quick snatches.

"Got him!" "Go-go-go!" "Zero One cover Three Five now!" "Striker Two cut off that son of a bitch heading to Mi-Lartui's flank!" "Need help over here!" "Where's my cover, Fortune? We're getting pounded over here!" "Striker Two here – shields failing, FTL off-line, secondary engines hot – not sure we can get to Mi-Lartui!" "Pull it together, Striker Two. We need you in this fight!" "I'm hit! Ejecting – someone get me!" "No-o-o-!"

The voices carried a tone of desperation one hears when the soldiers believe the battle is lost. Warren's heart went out to those that were bravely dying or being injured while they lured the carrier into position. Yet even if they managed to take out the carrier, it would be meaningless if there were no Imperial ships left to finish the fight after.

The fighting was fierce, ships beginning to crowd the space between the carrier and Ztar's cruiser. Mi-Lartui rocked with another impact. The holo-image clearly showed the shot came from the carrier. Warren glanced over at the display – they still needed to move the fight closer to the planet without it looking like it was intentional. But the carrier had slowed its approach of Mi-Lartui. Was her Captain or the General getting suspicious? Perhaps one of them smelled a trap or wondered why the battle drifted ever closer to the planet. Or worst of all, had their sensors somehow detected the weapon?

Suddenly, Warren picked up Ztar's urgent voice from the bridge. "Yels, on my signal, cut engines. The instant I give the word – emergency shutdown! I'll explain on my way to the engine room." Stepping back onto the bridge, Warren just caught sight of Ztar on the elevator as the door closed.

The elevator seemed to take forever to reach deck 5. As promised, he put his idea into Yels mind as the he descended. Ztar bolted from the lift and ran to engineering. This needed to look convincing. All was lost for certain if he could not lure the carrier into firing range. Ztar needed to freshen the bait.

Mi-Lartui rocked violently again as he entered the engine room. Ztar grabbed the doorframe to keep his balance. "Officer de'Redlyr!"

"Yes, Emperor!" the female in charge of the engine room called back over the hum of engines and power systems and warning chimes. She stood at a computer terminal, quickly operating various controls, barely looking up as she replied.

"I need to you vent the discharge chambers with the next hit near the port engine. I also need the vent chamber door open when that happens."

Officer de'Redlyr looked shocked. "But sir, if we do that-"

"I know what that means, Officer. I don't have time to explain – just make it happen. Dump everything bit of excess plasma you can into the vent. I need it to look like we've lost engines."

"That still won't mimic an engine explosion!"

"It may with a little extra energy burst."

Ztar ran over to the toward the vent chamber access door. He needed something to tie himself down.

"You're going to supercharge the spent plasma!" de'Redlyr said in realization.

"Exactly! Now make this happen, but it must be convincing!"

"Yes, Emperor!" The officer ordered all non-essential personnel from the engine bay, loaded the chamber with the spent material, and overrode the safety locks and fail-safes. Meanwhile, Ztar found an equipment strap and lashed himself down in direct line with the chamber access door now holding the spent fuel.

Mi-Lartui shuddered from another blast of enemy weapons. A siren blared its warning. de'Redlyr jumped from the vent controls to another computer terminal, scanned the readings, and silenced the siren. "Sir, we just lost forward weapons," she said turning toward Ztar. "And we are dangerously close to losing engine shields."

"All the more convincing then," Ztar replied trying to put a positive spin on the news. "The next hit on this section of ship and we act."

"Understood," the officer acknowledged, tying herself to her computer station.

'Yels, we're ready,' Ztar telepathed to his Captain. 'Make certain our inertia carries us into the target zone.'

'As you command.'

Ztar drew up his energy field, gathering it around him. He shimmered like a mirage as the field steadily increased in intensity. Deeper and deeper he dug to manifest every bit of energy he could find. And then he had to hold it. The effort was enormous and he quickly felt himself starting to tremble.

Thankfully, the wait wasn't long. The enemy knew shields protecting the port engine were failing and would concentrate their firepower there. The next hit sent flying sparks and steam and anything not held down. In that moment, de'Redlyr opened both doors of the vent chamber, shooting plasma into space. Escaping air tore at Ztar, lifting him off his feet. 'Now Yels!!' With a huge relief he released the pent-up energy down the throat of the vent chamber. When energy hit plasma just beyond the ship's hull and shields, a huge explosion resulted, shaking Mi-Lartui and her occupants. But de'Redlyr had done her job and closed the chamber doors just ahead of the explosion, preventing damage inside the engine bay.

Catching their breath, Ztar and de'Redlyr shakily unstrapped themselves, noting that the engines were quiet as planned. Yels had knocked them off-line the instant the plasma exploded. The only sound in the bay was air being pumped back in. Mi-Lartui was adrift, hopefully heading directly into the path of the ground cannon.

Once Ztar felt steady enough, he ran back to the bridge. All eyes turned to him as the elevator door slid open.

"That was impressive, Emperor!" Yels greeted. "We're being hailed again by the Commonwealth carrier."

Ztar smiled. "The General wishing to gloat most likely. What is our status?" The ship rocked with another found of enemy fire.

"We are drifting toward the target area. Forward weapons out. Damage reported on decks three, four, and five. One minor hull breach on deck four, but it has been repaired. Port engine shields are off-line, main shields at 50% and dropping," Yels paused as the ship quivered yet again. The weapons officer continued his barrage at the incoming ships. "Several reports of injuries, but no fatalities. Five ships are still battle-worthy, not counting ourselves, but most are in rough shape. Mi-Lartui is taking the brunt of the attack right now, Emperor," the ship shook again. "As you can likely tell."

His ships and their crews were in dire straights. This had to end soon or he wouldn't have enough firepower left to win.

"All is ready on this end?" he asked his Captain.

"It is."

Ztar touched minds with the technician at Xath complex. He stood by, nervous but ready.

"Then let's finish this!"

Warren observed from just inside the ops room doorway. He was not encouraged by the holo-image. Too many ships lost. Taking out the carrier at this point may be moot. How could Ztar pull a victory out of the proverbial hat? But Warren was used to hopeless scenarios. Where there's life, there's hope. And in battle, the unexpected can happen at any time.

"Put the General on screen, Captain."

The large image of a very pleased-looking General popped up.

"Ah, Emperor Ztar. I see you have a bit of a propulsion problem. Perhaps now you're willing to talk surrender?"

Ztar paced slowly in front of the image, looking tense. "General, certainly _you_ would not surrender while you had ships able to fight. Yet that is what you expect of me."

The General sat back in his chair in a very smug manner. Warren continued to observe the body language from as much as he could see of the General. He seemed relaxed and confident. There was no indication that he smelled a trap.

"Well, Emperor Ztar, this is how is see your situation. You have six ships left against my eight, one of which is a battle carrier. Most of your ships are damaged, some heavily. Mi-Lartui continues to accumulate damage. My long-range sensors show no indication of reinforcements coming to your aid. You cannot hold out much longer. If I were you, I'd be contemplating the number of lives I could save instead of sacrificing in a battle already lost. But that's just me." The General smiled confidently.

'Yels, are we within range?' Ztar queried with his mind.

'Nearly, Emperor. We need three more minutes to enter the target zone. Then we need the General to follow.'

Ztar stopped walking and stood in front of Noitiapp's image. "Perhaps we can talk cease fire first, then surrender."

"I'm happy with the situation as it stands, Emperor. A ceasefire serves me no purpose."

"Just as this war serves no purpose, Noitiapp! Why was it forced upon me? What do you and your leaders hope to gain? So many lives lost for no apparent reason."

"I do not make those decisions, Emperor. My role is to win the wars declared by those who do."

"So it matters not what you fight for?"

"I am a soldier, Emperor. Have you forgotten what that means? We take care of the fighting and the politicians and diplomats do the game playing."

"Perhaps you can say that over your son's grave."

The General's face soured at the mention of his son's death. "Are you _trying_ to get me to kill you, Ztar?"

Ztar's ship lurched once again and the warning chimes kicked in. Someone silence them immediately.

"I'm making a point, General. This war was orchestrated by your leaders for their own purposes. My Empire did not threaten yours. My people did not strike out your people. We could have continued to live peacefully side-by-side for generations. Instead, we are losing sons and daughters for reasons undefined to us. What schemes are your leaders indulging at the price of your warriors? Warriors whose generals apparently are so tamed as to fight without cause!"

General Noitiapp posture stiffened at the allegation. However to Ztar, Noitiapp also looked questioning. The Commonwealth military man was thinking. Perhaps Ztar had struck a cord. After many seconds, the General replied.

"You have your cease fire, Ztar. I'm coming along side and we'll talk surrender. Any sign of trickery and Mi-Lartui will be destroyed, but not before I make you watch me annihilate every one of your remaining ships and their crews. Do you understand my terms?"

"Understood." The image went blank.

"Watch them closely, Captain Yels. Trickery runs both ways. Order our ships to stand down."

"Yes, Emperor."

Ztar breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. He walked into the tactical operations room to watch the holo-image with Archangel.

"We might just pull this off, Archangel," Ztar remarked, but his voice was filled with concern.

"Let's hope your remaining ships have enough fight left in them to finish this if we do take out the carrier," Warren said pointing out the obvious.

"Precisely my concern."

The two men watched in silence as the image showed Noitiapp's carrier moving up to the Mi-Lartui. Both ships moved slowly into the target zone displayed as a shaded conical area in the holographic projection, while shaded area also moved with the planet's rotation toward the ships. Both vessels would be with the zone for a only a couple minutes.

"Our timing must be perfect," Ztar said seemingly more to himself than to Warren. But then Ztar looked away from the display and into Warren's eyes. "I'm sorry if this goes badly. I hadn't intended to risk your life – or any of my crew. This wasn't planned – I didn't lie to you earlier when we spoke. War tends to play out by its own rules."

Warren was mildly surprised. Ztar was apologizing that Warren thought he had lied. He nodded at Ztar.

Yels appeared in the doorway. "Emperor, we are in position."

"Good," he said turning toward Yels and Archangel. "Let's kick some butt!" and he smiled devilishly once again.

In spite of himself, Warren also had to smile, too. He knew where Ztar had picked up that phrase.

Each of the key players took their positions. Ztar as telepathic link to the planet-side technician. de'Redlyr with her finger over the controls to bring FTL drive back on line in emergency startup. DeliamPar at the weapons control on Phagiulu, hand over the button to reawakened the cannon. Yels in the Captain's chair to ensure all Imperial ships were not in the target zone and ensure as many Commonwealth ships as possible were.

A hail came from the battle carrier as she pulled along side Mi-Lartui and matched velocity. General Noitiapp's image popped up with Yels' authorization.

"Ztar, prepare to be boarded. We will escort you to my ship where we will discuss your surrender," the General announced grinning.

Ztar knew the General had no intention of talking – he would demand surrender. The Emperor moved into the viewable area of the bridge so Noitiapp could see him. "It is sad when honor no longer has meaning, General. Don't you agree?"

"You have lost the battle, Emperor. The honorable thing to do is accept defeat."

Ztar brushed Yels mind. All Imperial ships were safely outside the zone. The carrier, several of her fighters, and two striker class-equivalent ships were all inside the target area. Ztar couldn't have hoped for better.

He signaled the technician. 'Now, DeliamPar!'

On the surface, a shaky hand pressed down on a single button. The massive weapon began to vibrate as it woke. Power reserves surged their massive energy into the weapon as the cannon turned its nose toward the preprogrammed spot in the sky. Now the entire facility subtly vibrated beneath DeliamPar's feet. In seconds the gun would fire.

Things now happened at lightening speed as Warren stood on one side of the bridge watching. Someone yelled on the General's ship "Planetary defenses coming on line!"

The General's face read dismay. "Engines on line now, de'Redlyr!" Yels ordered over the comm.

General Noitiapp yelled to his people "Get us out of here!"

The Mi-Lartui jumped into emergency FTL drive in a gut-wrenching wave that Warren was hard pressed to describe. He stomach definitely objected, but he made his way the two steps back into the TO room to watch the holo-image.

Just as Mi-Lartui jumped out of the target zone, the cannon fired, lighting up the conical target zone in a near blinding burst of light that burned through image for several seconds. He could hear Noitiapp's scream from the bridge and then there was only silence. When the light faded from the cannon blast, the holo-image showed no movement in the target zone and several less enemy ships than before.

"We got them!" the weapons officer yelled. "We got them all! The fighters and the other two striker class ships destroyed. The battle carrier is adrift – no energy readings. She's dead in space."

Shouts and whoops could be heard over the ship-to-ship communications still being piped into the Mi-Lartui. The Mi-Lartui's bridge crew was smiling and rejoicing also.

Then Yels halted the celebrating. He opened channels to the remaining Imperial ships. "Let's clean up rest of this mess!" he commanded with unmistakable enthusiasm.

With the loss of the carrier and other ships, the Commonwealth fleet fell quickly apart and in a matter of minutes had retreated.

Once the Commonwealth ships had departed, Yels walked over his Emperor who had nearly single-handedly save the day. "My Emperor, to serve with you is the greatest honor of my career. Congratulations on a brilliant victory today!"

The bridge crew slowly stood and came to attention facing Ztar. Warren watched as Ztar seemed to fill with pride. "Yels, make certain our troops on the ground get reinforcements. And open a channel to our ships and to the Xath complex."

"Yes, my Emperor."

Ztar spoke to his troops. "We pulled off a minor miracle today. Each of you performed with courage and skill. No one could have done alone what we accomplished together. Many of us did not survive to share in our victory and to them we owe a debt that can not be repaid. I thank you for your courage and loyalty this day. Congratulations on a victory hard won and well fought!"

And with that, Ztar walked to where Archangel was standing near the elevator. "What I said to my military, I meant for you, too, Archangel. Thank you for what you did today."

Warren didn't feel the need to reply. What he did he hadn't done for Ztar. He had done it for the men and women who were depending on Ztar to save their lives.

"I think I need a drink, my Archangel."

"Most likely," Warren replied and they stepped onto the elevator together.

###

Warren jolted awake in a sweat. It was the nightmare again. He rose out of bed and made his way through the darkness to the bathroom. He needed very little light to see as nature had given him the night vision of a bird of prey, so the tiny bit of light given off by the various control panels throughout his chambers was more than enough. After splashing cold water on this his face and getting a drink of water, he had shaken off the worst of the leftover emotions from the dream.

The recurring dream literally involved his worst nightmare – losing his wings, again. As if going through that agony wasn't bad enough once, now for three consecutive nights he relieved that kind of horror in all its gut-wrenching, soul-ripping glory. But the dream was not a replay of actual events from years ago. This had a twist.

In the dreamworld, he was in a box. It's dark and he's alone. He looks desperately for a way out, but there is none. Solid from top to bottom. The box is small, no room to even stretch out his wings. Yet he knows what's outside – open skies. He knows the floating tomb hovers in the air far above the ground.

The panic in his dream has nothing to do with not having enough air to breathe or food or water. It comes from knowing that unless he can escape, his wings will shrivel and drop off, forever robbing him of flight. And the clock is ticking. Suddenly, he feels the sensation of his wings becoming smaller. He pounds and claws at the walls, ceiling, and floor to no avail. The wings continue to shrink. The fear and desperation are all-consuming. And then the worst happens. What is left of the wings drop off his back onto the floor and he screams. Then he wakes.

The nightmare so summed up his existence. Trapped in a tin can floating in space with no hope of escape.

Since the war began over four months ago, the Mi-Lartui stopped for a side trip only twice and Warren was going insane. His psyche screamed against the confinement. Distractions were no longer effective. Liquor only dulled the physical and emotional turmoil temporarily. The shuttle bay mostly cleared for Warren's use provided limited relief. While the bay was large, it wasn't large enough for one who played in the open skies.

Ztar's attempts to use telepathy to ease Warren's distress met with limited success. The need for flight and freedom was deeper than Warren's mind – it permeated his soul. Ztar's telepathy could not touch the soul.

Every day was worse than the day before. At times, it took everything Warren had not to curl in a corner and scream until he had no voice left. His wings throbbed in their demand for exercise and freedom. His body trembled at the thought of flight. Nights not punctuated with nightmares were filled with dreams of flying, but inevitably barriers and walls would invade his dream, forcing him to land or crash so that even dreaming was no longer an escape.

Warren knew he had fallen into depression. Time moved like molasses from one meaningless hour to the next. Life was without joy or happiness or peace. Instead a pernicious deadness filled him, punctuated only by the ache from deprivation of a sustenance as basic to his survival as air and food.

Sukja was alarmed about Archangel's mental state and he expressed it to Ztar. That was not news to Ztar. He had come to maintain a continuous empathic link to Archangel because of his growing concern about the human's mental stability.

The hungry need Ztar experienced through the link was nearly debilitating in its intensity. To Ztar, if felt as though the craving for flight went almost to the cellular level. It encompassed Archangel's body, mind, and soul. Little wonder the human had spiraled into depression. Yet knowing Archangel suffered and doing something drastic about it were two different things. But when Sukja verbalized his grave concerns, Ztar was spurred to make a painful decision.

Ztar entered Archangel's chambers to find him in his usual window seat spot, staring out at the stars, knees pulled up to his chest, arms around his legs, wings held tightly to his body. He didn't seem to notice Ztar standing there.

"Archangel?"

Archangel turned to Ztar. The eyes that at one time danced with life were dull and distant. Even the blue seemed muted as if reflecting his soul's despair. Archangel looked hollow and unwell. 'Why had I let this go on so long?!' he reprimanded himself. 'What you've put this being of the skies through the past four months is cruel beyond words. High time you put your needs aside and made his a higher priority.'

Ztar sat down facing his companion. "My Archangel, I wish that I was able to provide what you need to ease your distress, but I cannot – at least not on board the Mi-Lartui." Ztar reached out and touched Archangel's face. "I can't watch you suffer anymore, so I'm sending you home." Ztar felt tears fill his eyes with the words. Thinking it was one thing, saying he was letting Archangel go, at least for awhile, made it too real.

It didn't register at first, Ztar knew. So he gave Archangel time to dwell on the words knowing comprehension would come.

Warren's mind struggled to grasp the meaning of the words – I'm sending you home. "As in home to Earth?" He couldn't believe that could be what Ztar meant.

"Yes, my Archangel. Home to Earth. Immediately. Until the war is over or it's safe for you to rejoin me."

When the full impact of the words hit him, Warren was nearly swept under by a tidal wave of relief and joy. Home! To be free – the open sky – his friends – his family – his life! He didn't care if it would only be until the end of the war, he'd take what he could get. Temporary freedom is better than none. It could be months, years before Ztar would return. Maybe Ztar would never return. Warren could only pray it would be so.

His soul rejoiced. But only for a few precious moments. Then the realization smacked him that he'd be returning under a cloud of having been Ztar's consort. He'd spent a year lying with the alien nearly every night, providing sexual satiety. Nothing more than a prostitute who took payment in the form of Earth's safety. The embarrassment, the shame, the guilt – the emotions sickened him.

'So what happened the past year?' they would ask. 'Let's see…I learned the Turzent language, saw many amazing worlds, and – oh, yea, had sex with the Emperor every night.' He knew that wasn't reality, but it's the way it would feel to him. The looks, the whispers, the speculation. They'd wonder just how far he'd fallen under Ztar's influence. Had he capitulated? Had he become the willing whore? Dear God, he couldn't do it!

"I-I can't go back. Can't face them!" He cried out in anguish.

Ztar was confused – what was going on with Archangel? He had been so certain that this is what the human would want and would be thrilled. A quick read of the thoughts that raced through Archangel's mind and understanding dawned. Ztar gathered Archangel in his arms, stroking the wings, sending soothing feelings into Archangel's mind as the human fought to hold in the sobs.

"There is no shame in what you did. The shame is mine. You protected your world at a huge personal price. If your friends don't understand that, then _they_ are the ones who should be ashamed!" Ztar felt his anger flare at the mere thought of anyone judging his Archangel harshly or with contempt.

Warren wanted desperately to be free of Ztar, but Earth was no longer the escape route. He felt lost – home would be too painful. But where would he go? Ztar had taken _everything_ from him. Now he didn't even have a place he wanted to go to – no place he could happily call home. That revelation was like a stab to his core.

"Why did you _do_ this to me, you bastard?!" Warren demanded pushing back from Ztar, anger suddenly replacing the shame.

"Because I _am_ a selfish bastard. I want what I want and will not settle for less. And I wanted you, more than anything I had desired in a very long time." Ztar lifted Archangel's chin to see into those glorious eyes that were brimmed with tears. "Archangel, never once did I indicate my plans for you. As far as I know, unless you tell them, they will not know the details of your time with me."

Warren shook his head. "You're forgetting Xavier's a telepath."

"And he probes your thoughts and memories without permission? I must have misinterpreted what I saw in your mind about him…"

Warren swiped away an escaping tear in disgust. He hated it when Ztar saw him weak and crying. "No, normally he wouldn't. But under the circumstances, I'm not sure he would hold to that. The security of Earth could be reason enough."

"It is interesting how many virtuous rules are broken when the right reasons are presented!"

Warren didn't care to respond – the alien was right.

Ztar inhaled and exhaled slowly. "I have thought this through carefully, Archangel. Returning you to Earth is in your best interest. Earth is positioned to possibly come through this war unscathed no matter who wins. Plus, if your Shi'ar friends are truly allies, then Earth has a protector that would give the Commonwealth pause. I rather doubt they have the stomach to rile the Shi'ar, especially while at war with me! And if I win this war, Earth also remains safe."

Ztar watched Archangel and monitored his mental state through the link. The human was a jumble of conflicted emotions. He continued after a moment. "I did not tell you, Archangel, but the Commonwealth demanded that I surrender the Earth System to them. I refused – for many reasons. In reality, the Commonwealth really doesn't care what happens to Earth. It was merely an excuse for a war they already wanted. In all likelihood, the war will not come close to your homeworld. There is no strategic advantage for either side to do so. As predicted, the battles thus far are no where near Earth, the supposed flash point for this war."

Ztar placed his hand on Archangel's cheek and looked into the crystalline-blue eyes of the unique being that had melted his heart.

"You will be safer on Earth than most places in the Empire, especially if the war goes badly for us. On Earth, you will be with people who know and care about you. I want the peace of mind that you are out of harm's way, my Archangel. And that you are free to be what you are – a being of the skies."

Ztar dropped his hand and stood. "Now I have a war to attend to. First, though, we are making a detour to Earth – against my military's advice, I might add," Ztar said with a wicked smile. He enjoyed occasionally disregarding their advice. "We arrive in two more days. In two days, you will be in the sky once again!"

After Ztar left the room, Warren stayed in his tucked position in the corner of the window seat. This time, however, the defensive position was for an entirely different reason. The dream of returning to Earth didn't match the reality. Now he wanted to run in the other direction – away from Earth. Anywhere but to people that would expect their old friend back. That person didn't exist anymore.

###

"Let me be _very_ clear, Xavier." The two telepaths were in Mi-Lartui's Imperial conference room, orbiting above the Earth. Ztar stood facing Xavier in his wheelchair, towering above the human in what was intended to be an intimidating position.

"Please, by all means, Emperor, be very clear," Xavier replied coolly. He was not intimidated.

"He is to remain at your residence, your mansion as he calls it. As Archangel's appointed guardian, you are personally responsible for his safety. You are to ensure his physical and mental wellbeing. Should he come to any harm while in your care, the Earth will suffer. If I discover that you have invaded his mind, with or without his permission, the Earth will pay the price for that intrusion."

Xavier caught the implications of that last warning. Was Ztar a _telepath_?

Ztar had been reading Xavier's thoughts and allowed an ever so slight smirk appear on his face. Then just to be sure human had no doubts, Ztar reached out and brushed Xavier's mind.

Xavier felt the power of Ztar's mind. With the ship's psyche dampeners working, Xavier was unable to return the favor. If Ztar had used his ability to control Warren…

The Emperor continued with his edicts. "He is not to be an active member of your X-men in any manner. Archangel remains my property. When I return, you will present him to me without hesitation. If you are unable or unwilling to meet these terms, I will leave with him now. Do you agree with the terms of this arrangement, Xavier?"

"Does Archangel agree with the terms?" Xavier inquired. What manner of man was this Emperor? Warren was not a possession! In spite of himself, Charles felt his anger rising.

"Archangel is aware of the conditions of his stay on Earth. Do you agree with the terms?"

Xavier noted that Ztar said 'stay on Earth,' further indicating he had no intention of abandoning his property permanently.

"I agree," Xavier submitted. At least Warren would be home and safe, even if for awhile.

Ztar changed the subject suddenly. "I trust you were able to contact the Shi'ar?"

Actually, Ztar already knew Xavier had done so. He simply wanted Xavier to say it.

"The Shi'ar stand by as allies," was all Xavier would verbalize, knowing Ztar would pull whatever else he wanted from his mind if so inclined.

"Very good. Then our meeting is over. You and Archangel will be shuttled to your mansion. When I next come to Earth, you will receive my mental call. You will have Archangel ready."

With that, Ztar gestured the guards at the door to take Xavier away.

Finally, Charles would get to see Warren. Ztar had not allowed that until the agreement was set. The door to the shuttle bay slid open to reveal Warren in his X-men uniform standing next to the open hatch of the shuttle. Xavier drew in a breath – Warren looked dreadful! He appeared older and haggard. Even the way he stood had a look of defeat about it.

Warren's hair was past his shoulders and was unkempt. And the wings – Xavier had never seen them look so shabby. Even folded in their resting position, he could see the results of neglect. Yet to someone who didn't know Warren so well, he would still look stunningly beautiful, albeit a scruffy. Xavier saw past what most people would not.

His old friend also had a decidedly nervous and uncomfortable demeanor. Not happy to be returning home as Charles had hoped. Dear God, what had this Emperor done to his friend?! Xavier caught himself automatically trying to reach out to Warren's mind.

'Against Ztar rules!' Xavier reprimanded himself. 'Be careful, Charles.'

Not that he would have succeeded – the ship's dampeners worked in the shuttle bay as well, Charles remembered.

"Warren, my friend!" Charles greeted cautiously as he rolled closer. Xavier fought back the tears. So many tears had been shed over the past year, but these were finally tears of a different nature.

"Hello, Professor." Warren knew his tone was cool and distant. It was the best he could muster.

"It's time to come home," Xavier said hopefully. "We are all so very thankful you are alive and safe!"

Warren didn't reply to Xavier, but started toward the shuttle. 'Noticed you didn't say "alive and well," Xavier. That'd be pushing it, wouldn't it?' Warren thought bitterly, knowing Xavier wasn't permitted to touch his mind in any way, shape, or form. Ztar had been clear to Warren on the rules of his visit to Earth. And Ztar had been quite explicit that this was only a visit – he would return for Warren when it was safe to do so.

Xavier's heart fell. 'He blames you, Charles,' he told himself. 'You betrayed him! Threw him to the enemy. How could you have possibly thought the friendship would survive that? You have lost Warren a second time.'

Warren settled into the shuttle without another word to Xavier. He couldn't speak or he'd break down. There was just too much emotion to risk talking. Best to remain quiet and in control, even if it meant hurting Xavier, who was obviously distressed over the cool reception from Warren.

'I'm the injured party here! He can suffer a bit while I collect myself,' Warren thought with an acrimony that surprised him.

The shuttle ride to the mansion was made with a lot of silence. Xavier did briefly break the silence to relate some happy news regarding the X-men's personal lives. 'Damn, this is awkward,' Xavier thought to himself.

Warren felt completely disconnected with what Xavier was saying. It seemed like he was talking about strangers. Such an odd sensation! Life at the mansion was an ancient memory with little to do with his current life, and he did not want to return to that past. To get pulled back in only to be plucked out once again when Ztar returned, would be too much to bear.

When the shuttle landed, Warren was relieved beyond words that no one was around.

Xavier saw the relief cross Warren's face. "I felt you would want a quiet return. Forgive me if that's not the case." Xavier said tentatively.

"This works," Warren replied.

As the pilot opened the shuttle door, Warren moved to it quickly. Without looking back at Xavier, he told him, "I will return – don't be concerned."

With that, Warren took to the air to leave everything on the ground and to melt into the embrace of the open sky. The suddenness and intensity of feelings and sensations nearly took his breath away. Tears of liberation raced across his face in the wind. His soul had been starving and now it was being fed. His entire body vibrated in relief that was beyond what he could express.

Xavier exited the shuttle with assistance from the Turzent co-pilot. Mentally, he ordered everyone to remain inside the mansion. He sat alone in the mansion's garden, waiting for Warren's return. And he silently wept.

Warren took joy in density of the Earth's air, the intensity of her gravity. He bathed in the particular color spectrum of Earth's sun; detected the nearly imperceptible magnetic currents that passed through his body. Once again he could pinpoint the direction where the Worchester mansion was, his penthouse in New York City, his private estate. His body recognized this planet by those sensations. At long last, everything felt correct, down to the smell of the air. This was home – this is where he was meant to be. Ever molecule of his being rejoiced in the rightness of this planet. If only emotionally he felt likewise.

As the initial euphoria passed, different emotions gripped him. Warren did _not_ want to be on Earth. He _did_ want to be away from Ztar. As he flew ever higher, he wondered what he really wanted. A different planet would be a good start. Perhaps one of the beautiful planets they had stopped at during a side trip. A place where no one knew him or his connection with Ztar. Where he could be free to do as he pleased, when he pleased. Away from the responsibility for the continued safety of a planet. Away from the nightly demands of the Emperor.

'But once again, I've got no choice. Ztar makes all the decisions and I'm to do as commanded. No choice. No voice!' Anger mounted in him once again.

Higher he flew until it was very cold and even he had difficulty breathing. The sudden excursion after so long without flying caused him to be winded more quickly than normal. Sucking the ice cold air into his lungs made them hurt, but the pain felt good in an odd way.

He hung in place for a while, looking down on Earth. This planet was spared Ztar's cruel hand by his sacrifice. By Warren Worthington the Third being prostituted to the Turzent Emperor. He looked at the world below him with disgust…a world that looked the other way while he suffered. His heart raced with anger.

'That's not entirely fair,' Warren argued with himself. 'Ztar said he never revealed what he was going to do with you, Worthington. Very few even know the Turzents exist!'

Still in all, whatever it was Xavier, the X-men, the Shi'ar, and privy Earth leaders believed, all had to know Ztar's plans couldn't be good for Warren. But it would have been too easy to toss away a single mutant to the enemy. A no-brainer, really. Warren's heart hardened to everyone involved, more so than during all the long, agonizing months on the Mi-Lartui. All those months when he lived with the delusion that he wanted to return to Earth.

'Remember, flyboy, you're only here for a visit. Ztar will be back unless you're lucky enough that he's killed or looses. Don't wish yourself off this planet, because that's very likely what's going to happen sooner or later. Then you'll be right back where you were. Which is worse?'

The cold was sinking to the bone. Warren descended to a warmer level and forced himself to give up retrospective thoughts and to enjoy his freedom. The anger began to dissipate as he glided and swooped.

It was many hours later with evening approaching that Warren alighted outside the mansion. As he approached the back door, Xavier was waiting just inside.

"I would like to talk," Xavier came right to the point.

"I'm tired," Warren answered with more harshness than he intended.

Xavier's face and eyes revealed the hurt. "Very well. Perhaps tomorrow?"

"Perhaps." Emotionally and physically drained, Warren didn't have the energy for many words. "What room do I have?"

"Your same room from before. It is as you left it." Xavier's voice was laden with sadness.

Warren momentarily felt sorry for the Professor, but he let it pass. This was the man who allowed him to be given to Ztar. The heat of anger flared again in Warren. He went up to his room before he exploded at Xavier. If Warren had learned anything this past year, it was how to stuff his emotions.

Xavier had spoken truthfully about his room. It appeared untouched from what he last remembered. But that was a lifetime ago and he couldn't be certain everything was as it had been. Completely exhausted, he crawled directly into bed. 'I'll be sleeping alone!' came the realization. "Alone," he voiced aloud. Even the word felt good to say. Within moments, he was in a deep sleep.

###

For two weeks, Warren kept to himself, either in his room or in the air. He checked on his business and found it had carried on quite nicely without him. Apparently, he was on sabbatical – almost amusing!

Warren had transferred his self-imposed isolation from the Mi-Lartui to the mansion. The aloneness was familiar and safe. He came and went from his suite through the balcony, thus avoiding the need to even step out into the hall. The small frig and food cabinet he kept stocked with late night visits to the mansion's kitchen and storage area.

He knew his old friends wanted to see him, but they likely weren't sure how to approach him and he wasn't making himself available. No one came knocking on his door. Had Xavier told them to stay clear to give Warren time to readjust? Good, if he had. Warren had little desire to see any X-man – previous friend or otherwise. And so, everything worked perfectly.

Except for Xavier. Through Warren's locked room door, he kept asking to talk. Other days, Warren would find the plea on a note slipped under his door. One time, Xavier actually waited below the balcony and called out as Warren returned from a flight. Warren kept ignoring and putting him off, but the constant pleading was becoming exasperating. He just wanted to be left alone. Nothing Xavier could say did he want to hear.

Finally, after two weeks of being asked every day, Warren relented to the Professor. 'Just get this over with,' he told himself. 'Maybe then he'll leave me alone.' They met in Xavier's study in the early afternoon. Xavier appeared nervous – most unProfessor-like. 'He should be nervous!' Warren told himself. 'Anything I have to say he won't like.' Warren's anger had had two weeks to ferment.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Warren. I know the transition back to Earth must be difficult," Charles began, his chair situated in front of the desk in his study. Warren had entered the room but remained near the door. 'Ready for a quick exit,' Xavier remarked silently.

"You have a firm grasp of the situation." The reply was thick with sarcasm. 'You have no clue how difficult, bastard,' Warren thought icily.

Xavier ignored the remark. "I just want to talk, Warren."

Warren stood arms crossed in an unfriendly stance. "What do you want to talk about? Politics? Finances? Mutant-human relations? How about human-alien relations? That seems to be a specialty of yours." Warren wanted the words to sting. What could Xavier possibly say that was worth listening to?

Xavier tried again. "I know you have things you'd like to say to me, Warren. We need to work them through."

"What exactly do you think _we_ need to work through? _We_ didn't just return from a year with the Turzents. _We_ didn't have our lives ripped away." This talk was a mistake and Warren was already close to leaving the room.

The building anger was evident in Warren's words and stance. Xavier wanted Warren to release it. The past two weeks he'd seen no display of emotion from his old friend in the few glimpses he managed to catch. It wasn't healthy.

"I don't deny that, Warren. But I would like to clear the air. To talk about what happened and why."

A year's worth of pent up wrath consumed Warren with a suddenness that swift he had to suck in a breath. He moved quickly toward Xavier. Warren burned with fury, his wings spread as they often did when he was intensely angry. He resembled as a bird of prey ready to pounce as he loomed over the chair-bound Xavier.

"You want to fucking _talk_?! To what end? To rid yourself of the guilt at handing me over to the Turzents? You _betrayed_ me, Xavier!!" Warren yelled. "You let the Shi'ar use me as a bargaining chip. I trusted you and you turned me over like so much spare change! How could you??! I was your friend. I thought of you as a father. Yet you gave me up without a fight. The X-men gave me up without a _fight_!!" Warren's body shook from the rage as he bent down closer to Xavier's face.

Charles knew it was appropriate for him to be the receiver of that rage. Warren needed someone to blame and Charles would gladly bear that for his friend. He'd had enough practice accepting blame in the past year. The X men had not gone easy on him once they found out the price of Earth's freedom. In fact, he'd lost a couple X-men over it. But no one had been harder on Xavier than he was on himself.

"It was so _easy_ to tell me to go with the Emperor like a good little peace concession! Then the rest of us can put this nasty business behind us and carry on as if nothing happened. _So_ much easier than finding another option, wasn't it?!" Warren straightened, crossed his arms and pulled his wings in slightly, still standing over Xavier.

"Warren, the Shi'ar – Lilandra – searched for other options. They tried everything, but the Turzents were firm. We were backed into a corner. The Shi'ar did their very best."

Warren could hardly believe what he was hearing. 'Is that the best Xavier can do to justify what they did?!'

"Their very best? How goddamn naïve do you think I am?! They took the _easiest_ route. The price was so small! Just one human. Just one small token to guarantee the safety of an insignificant planet far from their own territory. Quick, clean, easy. Why would anyone turn down such a sweet deal?"

"You discredit their sense of morality. What they agreed to was not easy. Lilandra was devastated."

"_She_ was devastated? And you? And the leaders of Earth? Did anyone give one iota what would happen to me? I was fucked over, sold out, given as property to an alien tyrant. Did anyone care how I might feel? What I'd go through?!" Warren snapped open his wings once again and lean down to the man in the chair. "Mother-fucking bastards – all of you! Everyone single one of you that betrayed me! May you all burn in hell!"

Warren backed away and began pacing to release some of the agitated energy or he feared he would punch out Xavier. But he didn't leave the room, although he wanted to. Xavier wanted to talk? Fine. Now he'd have to sit and listen to the horrible truth whether he liked it or not.

"I tried everything, Warren. You must know that! Everyone and anyone who'd listen – the Shi'ar, the leaders of Earth, the best legal minds on the planet. The Accord is ironclad. No nuances to exploit. No loopholes. The negotiators and treaty writers did their jobs well. The document is airtight in its simplicity of purpose – to obtain and control you in exchange for Earth's freedom. And if the X-men tried to rescue you, Earth would be lost before we could even _find_ you."

Warren didn't really listen to Xavier's words. It was all lip service. All an attempt to justify what they had done. To somehow make it not his fault. To exonerate himself from what he had allowed to happen. Warren refused to let him off the hook that easily. He continued to pace off the desire to slug the man he used to call friend. If Xavier were able-bodied…

"I waited for you. I prayed you'd come for me. Day after day, night after night. Xavier will find a way, I told myself; you just have to hold on. Until I finally realized what a fool I was to think you'd come for me. A stupid, naïve fool! Why would anyone risk a rescue? As long as I did exactly as Ztar commanded, it was business as usual on Earth. You knew that's what I'd do. Rescue served no purpose! Let me rot with the alien and Earth remained safe. That about sums it up, right? That's exactly what everyone was thinking, right?"

Warren shook with the intensity of the emotions as he paced. Hatred filled him. He was sacrificed to save Earth. Neat. Simple. His hell was Earth's salvation. His hell – the agony of lying beneath the man who had taken everything from him. The anguish of allowing that man to ravage his body and force himself upon him. Stripped of everything he'd ever known. Stripped even of being a person. Just so much property to be used as Ztar pleased. The loss and pain and humiliation and shame he endured...

"Did you even bother to ask _why_ Ztar wanted me? Would it have mattered at _all_? You and the others had to know it wasn't going to be pretty. What did you think he'd _do_ with me! _What_?!!" Warren bellowed as he strode back to loom over Xavier once again. He wanted to make the man feel small and to accept his guilt.

Charles telepathically absorbed the anger and pain as it poured out of Warren. Such raw, intense emotion it overwhelmed him. He couldn't speak. Xavier's heart bled. That pain was his fault. This one-time student, this man who had fought by Charles' side since he was a teenager, this supporter who had put his personal wealth behind the X-men on more than one occasion, had never ceased believing in Charles, until a year ago. From Warren's perspective it must seem as though the Shi'ar, Turzents, and Earth conspired against him – all parties agreeing to sacrifice him for their own gain.

Xavier paled and seemed to shrink in his chair. Warren felt no pity for him. When Xavier didn't answer immediately, Warren turned away in disgust. Did the eloquent Professor Xavier have no words? Of course he did not. What could he possibly say to excuse what he'd done? He couldn't look at Xavier anymore. Warren took two quick paces toward the door, but then turned back to the man in the wheelchair.

"The least you could do is answer my question. You _owe_ me that much!" Warren's voice dripped with loathing.

Xavier hesitated briefly, collecting himself before speaking. When he spoke, it was quietly. "We did not know his intentions for you, Warren. And to our shame we did not press the point hard enough. But to be honest with you – and I know you want that – it wouldn't have made any difference. The Shi'ar would have agreed to the terms no matter what price you had to pay. It was an expedient, painless fix to what they viewed as an annoying problem concerning Earth."

'I knew it! The truth comes at last. A quick and easy fix – fuck them all!' he felt vindicated, but it didn't hold the satisfaction he thought it might.

"So throw the mutant to the wolf and everybody goes about their business. A sweet deal for everyone but the mutant!!" Warren seethed with anger. Why had he bothered submitting to Ztar? "I should have fucked over Earth like you fucked over me! What a fool I was!" He drew his wings close as he came to a realization. "No, I was more than a fool. I was sucker that allowed myself to be used." Saying the words seemed to pop an emotional bubble and the fury began to dissipate, the void slowly filling with what laid beneath.

Xavier looked at his one-time student. So full of anger and pain. How could Charles possibly reach Warren through it? But hiding between the anger and pain was a cry to be validated. To know that his sacrifice was not trivial; not forgotten. Perhaps an opening there…

"There is no way for me to apologize. I cannot undo what has been done. Nothing I say will help. Just know that I and the X-men know you sacrificed _yourself_ for our sake and the sake of this world." A single tear traveled down Xavier's face. He fought to keep his voice steady.

"You obviously kept the terms of the agreement or Earth would have fallen to the Turzents. Warren, you have shown me over and over again the kind of person you are. You would gladly give your life to save another's. That's why I knew without any doubts that if you were given the choice between saving yourself or the Earth, you would have chosen the Earth without hesitation. As so we allowed you be taken by the Turzents to save our planet." Xavier trembled in an effort to not breakdown.

Xavier's words cut through the remaining anger, down to the anguish. It was quick transition and nearly swayed Warren.

"But I wasn't given the _choice_ – no one _asked_ me! You never asked me! I was handed over like fucking property! The choice wasn't mine. You forced it on me! I had _no_ _say_…" Warren voice cracked and he felt on the verge of hysterics.

"For that, my friend, I will always carry the guilt. But what saddens me beyond words is that only a handful of people out of the millions you saved will ever know what you are sacrificing in their stead!" Tears of guilt and pain streamed down Xavier's face and his eyes implored Warren's for some sign of understanding.

The words drove deep into Warren's soul. They expressed what he hadn't known he needed to hear. Recognition that he had sacrificed _himself_ – not happily, but willingly, to save his world. He could have fought Ztar and forfeited the planet that had done the same to him. But he had not. He had not turned vengeful. Warren had allowed Ztar to do with him as he may to save humanity. That is no small thing. But Xavier needed to hear what it cost him. He needed to understand the price! Warren steeled himself for the words to come.

"I've tried so hard to hold on! To keep my sanity and some sense of who I am. He's taken everything from me! Fucking everything! You can't know how that feels. I'm not even a person anymore! I'm a goddamn piece of furniture. Fucking nothing! That's what you and the Shi'ar bargained away, you son of a bitch! My humanity. My freedom! My life! Now I'm just a fucking w-" he nearly said the word, but cut it off. He couldn't say it, not to Xavier, not to anyone on Earth. Dear God, he was so ashamed of what he had become.

Warren's knees became jelly and he sank to the floor. The emotions were too powerful to control any longer. Anguish and shame overwhelmed him and the tears started to fall. "You goddamn bastard! You let them do this to me! You abandoned me. I b-believed in you and you- you let him have me!"

Xavier moved his chair to Warren and placed a shaky hand on his shoulder. "I am so sorry, my friend," he said in a whisper. "I am so deeply and eternally sorry. On that day, I would have given my life to save you. But Ztar didn't want _my_ life. I never stopped trying to find a way to bring you home. I'll never stop looking for a way to release you from the Accord. I swear to you, Warren."

With Xavier's touch and words, the sobs came violently and racked Warren's body. He heard what he needed to hear and now the release came. Like an emotional tidal wave, he was inundated and helpless to stop it. Warren put his hands and face in Xavier's lap and cried for a very long time while Charles stroked Warren's hair to comfort him.

That long year ago when Ztar trapped the Shi'ar and Xavier into giving him Warren, Xavier knew the Emperor intentions, he just couldn't admit it to himself. The telepath did not need telepathy to read what Ztar had wanted with his most beautiful X man. Xavier was not naïve.

###

Days passed into weeks and ever so slowly Warren emerged from under the layers of detachment and isolation he had buried himself beneath. Life was beginning to become enjoyable was again in fits and starts, and didn't simply move from one pain-filled moment to the next. He still spent most of his time by himself, keeping the X-men at arms length. But there were now some evenings spent with one or two of his closest friends, Hank and Charles.

Ztar still overshadowed Warren's life. The Emperor could return at any time. The more time that passed, the more Warren's dread of Ztar's return increased. But perhaps the Emperor was killed in the war. Perhaps Earth was cut off from the rest of the Empire. Perhaps Ztar was simply too busy.

The morning that Xavier got the mental call from Ztar was a beautiful early fall Saturday. Many of the students were taking advantage of the glorious weather to go an outing, complete with softball, a picnic, and the general fun of youth. Several of the staff chauffeured the students. Other X-men and students were enjoying some downtime in the city in various activities. The mansion was quite empty, just a few students and staff remained for some quiet time – something often hard to come by on the estate.

Xavier's heart broke. Couldn't Ztar just leave Warren be? He'd come so far in the past weeks, contact with Ztar in any form could be devastating. Yet the Accord loomed large. Failure to produce Warren would result in immediate hostile actions.

Xavier knew Warren was either in his room or out flying. Xavier went up to Warren's room and knocked. When Warren opened the door, the look on Charles' face said it all. Warren backed away. "_No_…" he said in an anguished whisper.

Charles' heart tore open at Warren's pain. He attempted to control his own emotions for his friend's sake. "We don't know what Ztar wants yet, Warren. He just told me he was coming, nothing more. Perhaps it is not what we think…"

Xavier watched as his X-man steel himself to do what he must. Warren closed his eyes and breathed deeply, working to calm the tremors going through his body. After a several seconds, he opened his eyes and looked at Xavier.

"How long?"

"About 15 minutes."

Before the shuttle landed, Xavier ordered everyone left in the mansion to remain inside. As the shuttle settled down on the large, open lawn, Charles and Warren walked outside. It was not Ztar that came out of the shuttle, but one of the pilots.

"Archangel, you are to come with me. Ztar is waiting," the pilot announced.

"Am I coming back? How long will I be gone?" Warren hoped the pilot had some information, but he knew from his time on the Mi-Lartui that he likely did not. So he was not surprised when the pilot said he would have to ask the Emperor.

Xavier grabbed Warren's wrist. "If there was a way…"

"I know, Professor. But there is not – not yet." And Warren walked into the shuttle as commanded by his Emperor.

Warren was escorted back to his old chambers. The feelings swirling inside him made him dizzy and nauseous. It would have been so much better to never have gone back to Earth. He felt the familiar pangs of dread when the door closed behind him. Where was Ztar? How long would the Emperor keep him waiting? The waiting would be the worse.

As if in answer to his questions, the door to Ztar's chambers slid open and the man entered. He stopped and looked fully at Archangel.

"I have so missed the sight of you!" Ztar exclaimed, his voice filled with happiness.

Warren didn't know what else to say except, "How goes the war?"

Ztar's face changed from happy to markedly less so. "It continues with no real winner on either side as yet. I'm afraid this may be a long war, my Archangel." Then Ztar moved closer to the human. "No talk of war in this room. All I want right now is you. I have risked much to see you and I will not waste time with talk of fighting and death."

In two long strides, Ztar had Warren in his arms and his mouth enveloping his. Warren's body responded automatically – the habits of a year with Ztar were still there. But the freedom of the past weeks were fresh and strong. Warren caught himself and pulled his mouth away from Ztar's roving tongue.

Ztar looked down at Archangel in some surprise.

"I don't want to do this," Warren was straightforward.

Ztar was taken aback. Maybe it had been a mistake to leave Archangel on Earth. The weeks away obviously had had an impact. "You know what's at risk…"

"I do. You need to understand that what I did with you before, I did voluntarily to protect a planet that offered me up to you without remorse. I'm not sure I want to continue that sacrifice."

"I can force you to submit and you would gain nothing," Ztar countered. Although his need was great, Ztar wasn't certain he had the heart to force himself upon Archangel. The feeling surprised him – Ztar did not think of himself as compassionate. But with this human, his Archangel…he just wasn't sure anymore.

"Understood. But then it would not be me making a sacrifice for a world that doesn't know or care about what I've endured. It would be you taking from me what you want by force."

"In the end, it's the same."

"Not from the emotional point of view. There's a huge difference."

"You risk your world's future," Ztar reinforced the price of resistance, yet his heart wasn't in it.

"That world bargained away _my_ future."

"You need to make a decision then, my Archangel. Which will it be – by choice or by force?" Ztar watched Archangel's eyes. He did not probe his mind for an answer. He waited. What had happened on Earth to cause Archangel to consider risking his world? Ztar prayed that the human hadn't become so hardened to his home and its people that the answer would be by force. He really didn't wish to harm Earth or to take his companion forcibly.

Warren looked back into the Emperor eyes. He had imagined this conversation many times over the past weeks. It had gone pretty much as Warren had anticipated. But in his imaginings, he hadn't been sure what he would do when actually facing another encounter with Ztar. And now the anger that had driven him earlier to consider not submitting to Ztar had eased substantially.

He thought about everyone back home. Friends that were like family. All the innocent people that had nothing to do with him being here. How could he possibly sacrifice them? He'd given his whole life to help people, some of whom hated him for just being what he was. And that hadn't stopped him before from doing what was right.

If Warren said no now, would Ztar really follow through on his threat against Earth when he was engulfed in a war? Warren had tried to convince himself Ztar wouldn't retaliate if denied. But perhaps he would. One shot from Mi-Lartui's powerful weapons into the heart of New York City, or Phoenix, Mexico City, or Moscow would be all it took to kill tens of thousands of people. The self-professed selfish bastard just might do the unimaginable to make a point. But was Ztar really capable of mass murder? Warren didn't think so. But would he enslave Earth? Now that he could see based on the Empire's own historic records. Could Warren risk either scenario?

If he let down Earth, if even one life was lost or enslaved because of him, he could never live with himself. What is one life compared to millions – or billions? No, the decision was the same as it had been a year ago.

"I'll do as you want," he finally answered softly, swallowing the surrender along with all the familiar emotions attached.

Ztar's mouth came down hard on Archangel's. His hands moved up from Archangel's waist to the base of the wings where Ztar grabbed hold tightly. He lifted Archangel from the floor and carried him to the bed.

"I want our special experience," he breathed into Archangel's ear. "Let me into your mind."

Warren did as Ztar asked and felt his inhibitions and aversions melt away.

The Emperor quickly ripped away the bothersome clothing that stood between him and his companion. 'So many long weeks without this!'

Ztar rediscovered the human's body and mind and he reveled in them. He drank in the smoothness of his skin, the silkiness of the wings, his scent and taste. He had been dying of thirst and now his thirst was being quenched! A thought formed his mind despite the heat of passion. His need for Archangel mirrored Archangel's need for flight. It went very deep. Realization hit Ztar – Archangel was good for his soul.

The revelation moved Ztar to want nothing more than give Archangel as much pleasure as possible. To make the encounter as blissful for his companion as for himself. War had forced Ztar to accept his own mortality. Each day he survived was a gift. This reunion may very well be his last. If that came to be, Ztar wanted this time together to be special for both himself and for Archangel. If he died tomorrow, he wanted Archangel to have at least a one good memory of him.

Warren began slipping into that lusty haze that Ztar was so skilled at creating in him. When Ztar suppressed his aversions, the result was always the same. Warren couldn't fight it. Take the inhibitions and revulsions out of the equation, and he no longer wanted to resist. Ztar's skill took him to levels of ecstasy Warren hadn't known existed before the alien. Warren felt himself sink into the sensations flooding his body and mind.

Ztar stimulated all the areas of Archangel's body where pleasure could be derived. Linked mentally with his bedmate, Ztar knew every move that brought delight. He wrapped his mind around and through the human's, sharing with Archangel his need – not the physical need for sex, but his soul's need to be with this one being that had reawakened the better parts of him. And he did _need_ Archangel – more than he had ever needed anyone.

Warren felt Ztar's mind merge with his, but it was different this time. There was a deep yearning that had nothing to do with sex; an almost desperate cry for…what? Salvation? The wanting was deep. Yet there was no demand or asking. Just a need so powerful it was almost tangible.

Ztar continued to stimulate Archangel's body, while taking as much pleasure for himself as he could elicit. He was desperate to satisfy the longing that had built for weeks without the human. Yet he was also desperate for Archangel to long for his touch. Was that too much to hope for? If only the human just once came to him freely – just one time. If that happened, Ztar wouldn't care if he died the next day. He would die content.

Beneath the bombardment of physical sensations, Warren felt Ztar's wanting grow. So intense, so…needful, Warren felt he might mentally drown in it. Then something subtle stirred within him. He had felt that once before, but what and when? Without a conscious decision or knowing how, a spiritual passageway of sorts opened. He remembered. It was the same ethereal door that opened when he was on the brink of oblivion a year ago.

Despite the attention to the physical, Ztar noticed through their link that something odd happened within Archangel's being. 'What?!' Ztar questioned. It was like a portal had materialized. Ztar had never sensed anything exactly like it before. A different level of consciousness? Beyond the opening there was…what? He sensed something profound. Whatever it was, it beckoned in the part of Ztar that was deep and old and…him. That essence of his being accepted the invitation.

A mild shudder ran though the Archangel as Ztar's essence slid deeper into Archangel's mind. Or was it the human's mind? Ztar wasn't sure. It felt more like he touched energy. His lifeforce? Archangel's _soul_? That shouldn't be possible. The energy was pure and gentle and powerful all at once. Whatever it was, it was where Ztar wanted to be. He rested part of himself in that place and satisfied a hunger he did not know he had and could not describe. In that moment, they became one. Ztar merged with Archangel body, mind, and perhaps soul. And Ztar was complete and whole and at peace.

Warren wasn't sure what was happening, but it was like their consciousnesses were blended. No, it was more than that; it went deeper. And Ztar was pulling something from him – no idea what. Something swirled deep within Warren on a level he couldn't name and flowed to Ztar's part of their shared consciousness. No words could describe the sensations accurately. It wasn't painful or uncomfortable or frightening. He didn't struggle against it. Then any further thoughts were lost to Warren in the passion Ztar was building in him.

Ztar kept their minds/souls entwined while he returned his focus to the physical. With the skills of an experienced lover, he built the passion steadily in Archangel – not too fast or too slow – so that Archangel wanted ever more. When he had Archangel at the brink of release, he held him there.

The human responded almost savagely and voraciously to Ztar's skilled touch as he layered sensation on sensation…increasing the intensity with each passing moment. Archangel returned the favor and gave no quarter as Ztar moaned with the pleasures being elicited. Hunger drove more hunger. After weeks without Archangel, Ztar was ravenous!

Ztar felt he would drown when the rapturous waves hit him from Archangel. They washed over him and through him so deeply it seemed to sink into every cell and molecule. Ztar cried out in pain/pleasure and indescribable joy as their bodies were pushed beyond ecstasy. The force of the passionate energy was almost more than a body and mind could endure! Then he drove deep inside his Archangel, savoring every exquisite sensation. Over and over he sank into the depths of his companion until he could hold back no longer and released. Archangel in turn gave his Emperor the last of his energy.

Drenched in sweat and weak from the intensity of the experience, both collapsed; their bodies beyond exhaustion. Wrapped tightly together, they slept.

Sometime later, Ztar lay awake next to his Archangel, who was still sleeping. That was normal after their 'special' encounters. Ztar believed it was due to the expenditure of whatever energy Archangel poured through them.

He looked at the beautiful body next to him and smiled. He stroked the perfect face. This unique being that was capable of things Ztar had never heard of in any of the hundreds of species he was aware of.

"How do you do the things you do?" he quietly asked the sleeping human. "How is it that you have changed me without even desiring to do so?"

When he was with Archangel, especially today, he was free and joyous! And now Ztar felt more alive and at peace than he could remember ever being. How could he give this up? The weeks without his Archangel were torture. War is hard enough, but facing war without his sanctuary that was the human was nearly unbearable. And whatever had occurred today – how do you describe that? Words were inadequate, but Ztar felt different. He felt…more whole.

Archangel simply must go back with him!

'But that would not be wise,' Ztar reminded himself with a heavy sigh. Above all, he wanted Archangel safe. Tucked away on his isolated little world in a corner of space no one cared about. The potential prizes of war where all elsewhere. Yes, Archangel's backwater planet was as safe a place as Ztar could manage. He'd continue to hide away his Archangel. Shield him from the ravages of war and death that threatened to engulf the rest of the Empire. And so he woke Archangel a short while later and sent him back to Earth. Ztar's heart and soul tore open with pain and loss.

"I will come for you again, my Archangel, if I can manage it," he had told the human as the shuttle door closed.

It was then that Ztar admitted to himself he loved Archangel; a first for him.

###

Only the Professor was there to meet Warren when he stepped out of the Mi-Lartui shuttle. The door closely quickly behind him and the shuttle immediately rose and darted off. Warren was glad that no one else was around. He knew he looked a mess. Ztar hadn't given him time to do anything but put on his clothes before he boarded the shuttle.

To Xavier, Warren looked like someone who just gotten out of bed. With a jolt, Xavier realized that likely was the exactly case.

"Warren, is there anything I can do for you?" Xavier offered tenderly.

"No, Professor. I need to shower."

Xavier worried about Warren's mental state but could not risk an intrusion into his mind. The one thing he trusted about Ztar was he would follow through on his threats.

While Warren showered, he allowed himself to think back just a little to the afternoon with Ztar. Something was different about the Emperor. Through the mental link, Warren sensed an underlying sadness in Ztar that he hadn't felt before. Not during the sex, but before and afterward. Weariness was there, too. The war, Warren concluded, was already taking a toll on the Emperor. It must not be going well.

###

Over the next Earth year, Ztar visited Archangel five times. Each time, the hours stolen away from the war were bliss. He lived for the next encounter. For awhile, he was not Emperor, no war raged around him, no generals vied for his ear or his guidance, no reports of yet more battles won and lost, soldiers killed. He let the chess pieces of strategy sit for just a bit.

Yet each time he slipped away in the Mi-Lartui, he put himself, his ship, crew and even the Empire at risk. Worse still, he jeopardized Earth and Archangel. But he was desperate to have something for himself, somewhere to get away. The longing for respite in Archangel's arms was nearly unendurable.

And so the Mi-Lartui traveled beyond the battle lines and out into unprotected Imperial space. If the enemy knew, they would hunt him down to strike when he was most vulnerable. Secrecy was paramount. Ztar took only one escort ship with him to go as stealthy as possible. But each trip to Earth was a roll of the dice.

His sixth trip that year the dice came up snake eyes.

The Commonwealth ships were waiting for the Mi-Lartui in the Earth System. Tucked behind a moon where the Mi-Lartui's sensors were virtually blind. Too late, Ztar sensed the collective presence behind Earth's moon just as they were passing it toward the blue planet beyond.

"Damn the gods!" he yelled at the viewscreen and sensor readings on the bridge.

From behind the moon came a swarm of Commonwealth fighters, weapons blazing. They targeted Ztar's escort ship and the shields of the Mi-Lartui. The Mi-Lartui shuddered under the sudden assault. A Commonwealth battle cruiser had quickly position itself to block Ztar from making a straight shot to FLT. The helmsman veered the Mi-Lartui sharply away from the vessel and nearly into the path of a second cruiser.

"Get us out of here! Full speed!" Ztar ordered, just as the Mi-Lartui took a substantial blast from the enemy cruiser. She pitched sharply and everyone on the bridge either grabbed something to remain upright or fell to the floor.

Mi-Lartui's weapons master was already striking back at the fighters. The large viewscreen showed two fighters explode in rapid succession. Unfortunately, it also showed the Mi-Lartui's escort ship take a mortal blow from the powerful weapons of the second cruiser.

Outgunned and surrounded, the Mi-Lartui shields were quickly giving way under the assault. He needed to get his ship out of weapons range immediately, or all was lost. Ztar's mind quickly went through possible escape tactics, throwing away one after the other. Then he saw a gap forming in the enemy's position behind his ship.

"Yels, when I give the word, reverse engines full power!"

Captain Yels nodded.

The helmsman turned quickly to the Captain, "But _sir_?!"

"Don't question me!" Ztar interceded.

"Yes, my Emperor. Engines ready for reverse, full power!"

The Mi-Lartui was taking a beating and automated warnings blared throughout the ship as shields began to weaken. But Ztar did not hurry. Mi-Lartui was a sturdy ship and she would give him the time he needed. He waited as the Commonwealth fighters and cruisers homed in on the front and sides of his ship. Let them move toward his flanks a little more…

"_Now_!" Ztar yelled.

A violent shudder ran through the length of the Mi-Lartui as her engines screamed to reverse direction instantaneously. The resulting lurk backward sent flying any unrestrained bodies and objects. The Mi-Lartui sprang backward through the gap as if she had been shot from a cannon.

In one move, Ztar had cleared his ship from the cluster of Commonwealth vessels. But at what cost to the engines? He would soon learn.

The maneuver brought the Mi-Lartui backwards into the outermost reach of Earth's atmosphere. If anyone on Earth was observing the heavens that day, they were getting quite a show!

"Helm, 90 degrees to port and engage FTL drive!"

With the enemy nearly on top of them once again, the Mi-Lartui's FTL drive came alive and she was ready to jump.

'We may make it out of here alive yet,' Ztar allowed himself to think.

Just as the Mi-Lartui's engines were initiating FTL, a Commonwealth heavy cruiser appeared from behind Earth's horizon and laid in a strafe along the length of the ship and directly across her engines. Her weaken shields collapsed under the assault and the enhanced weapons of the augmented cruiser. An explosion rocked the ship, more warning alarms wailed. The ship listed to port.

"Sir, we have lost engines and shields!" one of the bridge crew members yelled. "Forward weapons only remain on line."

'Then we're lost,' Ztar's thought was a mix of anger, sadness, and regret. It was his desire to see Archangel that had put him and his crew in this position. 'Selfish to the end!'

Ztar turned to his communication specialist. "Send file ArchangelOne to central command on a secure channel, General Gtar-Cro. Also send the file to the Commonwealth cruisers, all channels."

"Yes, sir!"

Captain Yels approached him, his face showing the pain of defeat and fear for his Emperor. "Sir, we are apparently going to be boarded. Commonwealth shuttles are quickly approaching."

"You will prepare the crew and ship for surrender, Captain. I am going to my shuttle."

"_Sir_?"

"You and the crew are to surrender as soon as I am clear of the ship. I will have no more needless Turzent deaths here today if I can prevent it! But I have unfinished business on Earth and I intend to complete it."

Ztar had already telepathically summoned the best of his elite guard to the bridge and they were now arriving to serve their Emperor.

"Sir, we're being boarded!" the communications officer proclaimed. "We have reports from the main shuttle bay that we've been breached."

"Inform security to delay the Commonwealth soldiers, but to surrender when the battle is lost." To his elite guard, "We are going to my private shuttle bay."

"Let's move," the guard leader commanded his unit.

Ztar and the guards did not run into Commonwealth soldiers until they stepped onto Deck 4. His crew had obviously performed well in slowing the advance of the enemy.

Phase weapon fire greeted them as Commonwealth soldiers came around a corner. The elite guard returned fire, using their own bodies to shield the Emperor. Then Ztar began to shimmer and he yelled "Down!" to his guard. They instantly dropped – they knew what was coming.

An intense wave of distortion shot from Ztar's body and slammed into the soldiers at the opposite end of the corridor. Their bodies flew into the wall behind them. They slumped lifeless to the floor. Sudden silence filled the hall, but it lasted only briefly. Sounds of weapons fire could be heard from elsewhere on the deck.

"Move!" the guard leader barked.

Two guards quickly checked around the next corner. Clear. The group ran down the corridor ever closer to Ztar's shuttle bay.

"Stop right there!" a voice rang out behind them.

Without turning around, Ztar lashed out with his telepathy, driving into the unprotected minds behind him, deep into their thoughts, feelings, and memories. He savagely tore through all that they were. The soldiers crumbled to the floor, holding their heads, screaming.

Ztar nearly took it to the next level – death – when the image of Archangel came to him. That beautiful creature that had shown Ztar that cruelty need not rule him. The Emperor backed off and instead induced deep sleep in the three soldiers. He would not kill anymore souls intentionally on his way to see his Archangel. It would not be fitting.

Continuing down the corridors, Ztar and his guard fought off two more groups of Commonwealth soldiers. Ztar held himself in check, using his energy field and telepathy not to kill, but to render unconscious. But even with the non-lethal assaults on the enemy, his head felt like it would explode by the time they reached shuttle bay. Hitting so many minds in such rapid succession left him drained and his head reeling. His energy field was also nearly depleted and there was no time to recharge.

Ztar used what was left of his energy to blast a path through Commonwealth soldiers on his shuttle deck. The effort staggered him. Most of his guards remained outside the bay entrance to ensure Ztar's getaway. One guard escorted him toward the shuttle.

Just as his over-taxed telepathy warned him that one mind was still conscious somewhere in the bay, pain ripped through his body as a phase weapon hit him from behind. He fell to the floor as his guard returned fire. Ztar felt the Commonwealth soldier's death in his mind.

"Sir, you need medical attention!" Concern laced the guard's voice.

"No! I need to get to Earth. I must!" Ztar said between teeth clenched against the intense pain.

"Then let's get you to the shuttle and out of here," the guardsmen said urgently but gently.

The guardsman helped Ztar to his feet and assisted him into the shuttle. "Now go. Hold the Commonwealth off outside the bay until I've launched. Then you will surrender." Ztar ordered.

"Yes, sir." And the guardsman did as ordered by his Emperor without question.

Fighting pain and nausea, Ztar sat in the pilot's seat and brought the shuttle to life. He downloaded the landing site coordinates from the Mi-Lartui's navigation computer. Then with the engines ready, he launched the shuttle 'hot' – the backlash caused an explosion in the bay. He knew his only chance was to move so quickly as to not give the Commonwealth time to react.

When Ztar's shuttle shot out of the shuttle bay at breakneck speed, it seemed to catch the Commonwealth forces by surprise. That gave him precious seconds to dive his shuttle toward Earth. Quickly, two Commonwealth fighters were on his tail, weapons firing. His shuttle took a couple hits as it entered Earth's upper atmosphere. The damage made steering the shuttle challenging. Ztar's injured body screamed against the jostling and vibration from the steep descent. He activated navcon to guide the shuttle toward Xavier's mansion as he held on to his seat, gripping the armrest against the pain.

Once into the thickening atmosphere, the pursuit vehicles ceased firing. They would simply follow Ztar in to wherever the Turzent was planning to land.

Riding the bucking shuttle at full tilt to the planet below, Ztar's mind cried out to Archangel. At first there was no response and Ztar feared Archangel would not hear or would not respond. But then the familiar feel of the human's mind touched his. 'I need you!' was all Ztar could manage.

He thought about Archangel. Ztar had gambled everything several times for this one being and this time he lost. He prayed that he hadn't also gambled away Archangel's future or that of his homeworld.

Through sheer force of will, Ztar controlled the wounded craft as it started to level out. Before long, the shuttle was indicating it was approaching the programmed destination. Ztar turned on the autopilot and allowed the shuttle to land on its own.

Fighting off unconsciousness, Ztar held on as the craft's damage made for a rough landing at Xavier's mansion. He would see his Archangel one more time.

Warren felt the desperation and urgency in Ztar's cry – he was in dire trouble. Exactly what that trouble was, Warren did not know. All he knew what that Ztar's was on his way and it was not a good situation!

Warren flew back to the mansion as quickly as he could, nearing the mansion just as Ztar's shuttle was settling on the ground. Burn marks on the shuttle's exterior told Warren that there had been fire play. Then he spied the two other craft fast approaching. His keen eyesight made out identification symbols on the craft and they weren't Turzent.

'Professor!' Warren shouted his projection to Xavier. 'We might have trouble!' He immediately felt Xavier's mind for the first time in two years.

'Warren?!'

'Ztar's shuttle is landing and two Commonwealth shuttles are in possible pursuit.' Warren felt Xavier's mind quickly retract from his.

Ztar stumbled out of the damaged vehicle and collapsed to the ground. Warren landed next to him just as the two other craft set down. Their doors quickly opened and soldiers spilled out.

By this time, X-men had appeared and were ready for a fight, but Xavier held them off. This was a delicate matter involving two galactic powers, neither of which Xavier wanted to anger unless necessary. Earth would only lose. Neutrality was Earth's best defense at this moment. For now, the X-men would only observe.

Ztar was obviously gravely injured – blood was everywhere. His breathing was ragged and his eyes filled with pain. But he was conscious and clutched a small PI in one hand. Warren gathered the Emperor to him. He gently cradled Ztar in his lap as armed Commonwealth soldiers surrounded them.

"Release the Emperor to us!" one of the soldiers ordered.

"We're getting this man medical attention first!" Warren yelled back. Weapons clicked to the ready on that one.

"I'm afraid we cannot allow that!"

Before Warren could say anything more, Ztar spoke.

"It is okay, my Archangel. Let them have me – I'm dying anyway." Ztar grimaced in pain from the effort to speak.

Warren felt Ztar gather his strength.

The Emperor looked at the soldier who was giving the orders. "I am Ztar, leader of the Turzent Empire. I call upon the rights due me by my position and by Commonwealth law," the Emperor winced again from pain. Then he continued, holding the PI up in a shaky hand. "This contains several legal edicts I have issued concerning my Empire, this planet, and my personal surrender to the Commonwealth. Give this to your commander. My ship is also transmitting these edicts to your command ship."

The soldier took the PI from Ztar's bloodied hand.

Ztar turned his attention back to Warren. His voice weaker now.

"My beautiful Archangel..." His hand brushed Warren face. "If the Commonwealth is honorable, my edicts will ensure your planet's independence. Earth should be safe."

Ztar's body shuddered and he moaned softly. Warren felt Ztar's mind touch his and his eyes widened with the thoughts Ztar sent to him.

'You touched parts of me I had forgotten existed. You reminded me what joy is, how powerful gentleness can be. What it means to sacrifice oneself for something greater. Most of all, I learned how to care about someone other than myself. You made me whole again. I love you, Archangel – my first and only love. Thank you for allowing me that before I die.'

Ztar looked longingly at his Archangel, tears in his eyes. 'I am so _sorry_…' Ztar left the rest of the thought unfinished.

Then aloud, Ztar continued with great effort, "Do not interfere with the soldiers. You must maintain Earth's neutral position. I have named you Earth's representative to the Commonwealth and the Empire." Ztar's voice grew weaker with each word.

"Ztar, what are you talking about?" Warren was confused.

The Commonwealth soldier began to say that time was up, but Xavier exerted mental control over him and the others. They stood silently in place. He doubted Earth's neutrality would be jeopardized by a little mindblock.

Ztar drew in a shaky breath. "My ship has downloaded the edicts and other information to the mansion's computer. The file is named ArchangelOne. Read it and you will understand." Ztar then mentally sent Archangel the key points about the Earth's new legal status. 'In case things go badly with the soldiers here,' he thought to Archangel.

Ztar's body quaked again, and he hissed. Through the link that was in place between them, Warren could feel Ztar's pain, his body dying. Warren wanted to stop the pain, let Ztar die peacefully, in spite of everything that had happened between them.

'Open to me, Ztar,' Warren thought to the Emperor.

Warren closed his eyes and reached down to that passionate energy they had shared and pulled up a part of it. At the same time he reached into that quiet place in his mind he had used to quell Ztar's madness after Trapia. He brought the two together, let them intertwine, grow within him, and emerge. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the Emperor. Warren gently poured blended energies out to Ztar – joy and bliss, sensual pleasure and warming euphoria, soothing gentleness, and tranquility. He offered it to Ztar to wash away the fear and pain of death.

Ztar took the gift gratefully and smiled at his Archangel.

A gentle glow radiated from Warren. Ztar saw and placed a hand on Archangel's face in awe and gratitude. "So beautiful…thank you…" he whispered.

Then Ztar's eyes widened, his hand dropped. He was gone. Warren let the energy fade as Ztar's lifeforce left his body and his mental touch slipped away. In spite of everything Ztar had put him through, Warren's heart was surprisingly saddened at the death.

What Warren didn't know was that the energy he poured out wasn't limited to Ztar. It had spread beyond the two of them, out to the soldiers and the X-men. Everyone stood transfixed as the waves of sensations dissipated.

There were no sounds – only silence for many long seconds.

"Fucking mother of god! What the hell was _that_!" Wolverine was the first to shake off the effects.

Wolverine's outburst shook the Commonwealth soldiers out of their stupor. "Take the body into the shuttle," the leader ordered after his wits returned.

Warren did not resist when the soldiers took Ztar from him. He remained seated weakly on the ground while the soldiers boarded their shuttles.

The soldier in charge addressed the X-men from the entrance of the shuttle. "This planet is now in our jurisdiction. Consider yourselves part of The Systems Commonwealth." Then he turned to enter his craft.

"No!" Warren said sharply. The Commonwealth soldier stopped in his tracks. Warren stood shakily and faced the soldier. "As Earth's legal representative to the Commonwealth, I dispute that statement. If you read the edicts, you will find that Earth is an independent system from the Empire. We are a neutral party in this war. Therefore, by Commonwealth law, you cannot take us into your jurisdiction."

The soldier glared at Warren, but did not argue. He was a soldier, not a politician or diplomat. This was best left for others to sort out. He entered the shuttle and the two crafts departed.

As the shuttles disappeared, Warren bent over and placed his hands on his knees. He was light-headed and weak. Likely from the energy he had expended to give Ztar a peaceful passing.

Xavier was quickly at his side. "Warren, are you okay?" the Professor asked. Xavier was still trying to process what it was Warren had just done. Whatever it was, the effort had obviously left him drained.

"I just need to sit down."

"Hey, flyboy, what the hell did ya _do_ to us back there?!" Wolverine demanded as Xavier and Warren made their way toward the mansion.

Warren stopped, holding on to the back of Xavier's wheelchair for support. "What are you _talking_ about, Logan?"

Rogue leaned over to Kitty, "Sugah, anythin' make ya feel _that_ good, mus' be illegal!" Kitty snickered.

"I need a shower," Peter said quietly and started toward the mansion.

"Wha'd ya do when ya were _glowin'_? Never felt nothin' like that before! Not sure I wanna again – makes ya weak!" Logan's expression was caught somewhere between anger and amusement.

'Weak…that's one way of putting it!' Cyclops thought with a mental smirk as he headed inside.

"When I did _what_?" Warren was confused. Glowing? What was Logan talking about? What he had done was between Ztar and him, wasn't it??

"Logan, we'll discuss this later," Xavier said firmly.

Logan let it go. The other X-men exchanged glances. Did Warren really not know what he had done?

###

The Professor asked Warren to join him in his study several mornings after Ztar's death. Xavier had thoroughly reviewed document Ztar saved on the mansion's computer system. He was impressed. It was obvious that the Emperor fully intended to do everything possible to protect Earth no matter the outcome of the war between his Empire and The Systems Commonwealth.

"Warren! How are you feeling?" Xavier said looking up from the computer display.

"Better each day. Is that Ztar's file?"

"Yes. Quite impressive! Obviously, I'm not familiar with either Commonwealth or Turzent law, but it appears that Ztar and his people were well versed in both. The file contains his final edicts and numerous passages and they invoke Commonwealth and Imperial law quite effectively."

"How so?" Warren asked as he sat down in front of the Professor's desk.

Xavier smiled at Warren. It was good to feel his mind once again. Although Xavier did not pry, he allowed himself to read the general emotional state of his friend. Warren's relief over Ztar's death was enormous. But Charles knew that not enough time had passed yet for Warren to truly believe he was free from the Emperor. It would all still be somewhat surreal.

Then there was still the matter of what Warren did to ease Ztar's death. Xavier hadn't experience anything exactly like that before and certainly couldn't easily explain what it was. It wasn't quite telepathic, not really empathic, it was something different. Something akin to an offering up of energy, not projecting out – it the best description Xavier could come up with. But answers to that were for another time when Warren was stronger psychologically.

"If these edicts are indeed honored by the Commonwealth and the Empire, then Earth is safe by their own laws. Ztar sequenced the edicts in a very precise order. This was not a hastily created document. He must have planned for this possibility for some time."

Charles turned the monitor so that both he and Warren could see the file together.

"If this holds, Warren, you have quite a role to play in Earth's relations with the Turzent Empire and the Commonwealth."

Warren leaned toward the desk. "What do you mean?"

"It's a lengthy document, so I'll summarize. Ztar's first edict invokes Turzent law and his own power as Emperor. He names you as the Turzent Empire's sole and exclusive representative to the Commonwealth in all matters involving the Earth System."

"I'm not sure I like that idea…"

"It gets better, Warren. In his second edict, Ztar grants Earth its full and complete independence from the Turzent Empire as a _neutral_ world – that's important. It means Earth is no longer part of the Empire nor is Earth a party in the war."

"With those pieces in place, he cites the Commonwealth war law that binds them to treat Earth as an independent, neutral system and not a "liberated" protectorate. This apparently positions Earth to determine its own future wholly and completely under Commonwealth law. I understand this to mean the Commonwealth cannot simply add Earth to its territory as a spoil of war."

"Exactly! That's part of what Ztar told me telepathically before he died. He said that the Commonwealth could not touch Earth and still abide by their own laws," Warren relayed.

"There's more. Next, he cites Commonwealth interstellar war law that binds their military to recognize you as the named sole and exclusive voice of Earth in all matters between a neutral Earth and the Commonwealth during wartimes. That results from his earlier edict naming you as the sole representative for Earth to the Empire. Apparently by Commonwealth law, that position transfers."

"Ztar goes on to remind the Commonwealth that under their laws, your representation of Earth automatically transfers to _peacetime_. In effect, this double secures your position as representative – both under Commonwealth civil law and Commonwealth war law."

"Sounds air tight," Warren noted. "Anything else?" He was getting more apprehensive by the moment over the document. What had Ztar gotten him into?

Xavier continued. "Yes. Ztar's final act was to abdicate the throne without naming a successor. He states that in this way his people are free to either continue the war under another leader of their choice or to surrender to the Commonwealth."

"I wonder which they'll choose," Warren hoped for surrender, but having a single, enormous galactic power at Earth's doorstep was not comforting.

Warren thought for a moment more. "My being the representative for Earth won't go over. The world's leaders will not agree to that and I'm not sure I want the responsibility!" Actually, terrified of that kind of responsibility wouldn't be an overstatement.

"You will do just fine," Xavier reassured, sensing Warren apprehension. "Whether Earth likes it or not, it appears that the _only_ representative their regimes can now acknowledge is you, by their own laws. How we here on Earth deal with Ztar's maneuvering you into that position won't be a Commonwealth or Turzent concern."

"I can see the price on my head now!" Warren said with a jolt.

"I summarized the edicts. You hold the position of representative _until your natural death_. There are passages stating what happens should any harm come to you so that you are unable to fulfill your duties. The position of lifelong representative is apparently strictly honored under Commonwealth law. Should it be discovered you met with an untimely death or injury, no one can step into your position that they can legally recognize. Earth would remain neutral and independent, but unrepresented within Commonwealth space. In one of the passages, Ztar warns Earth that non-representation within the Commonwealth is a decidedly undesirable position. He cites several Commonwealth laws pertaining to that scenario. If the citings are correct, Ztar speaks truthfully."

"Another passage states that should the Earth choose to become a full member of the Commonwealth, it will be you that holds the Council seat in their unified government as a right of your position."

"Oh, it just gets better and better," Warren said sarcastically. This really wasn't something he wanted to be burdened with. Warren got up and started pacing the room. "What else?"

Xavier hesitated. Warren was obviously upset. But might as well finish – not much left to reveal anyway.

"The document also states that your position as representative to the Turzent Empire is also legally sound, should they prevail in the war. The rest is detailed legalize. The document is quite extensive. It will be interesting to see how Earth's leaders respond when we release it."

Xavier could see/feel Warren's agitation.

"They won't believe it. They'll say it's a sham."

"Likely – until they face the Commonwealth or Turzents, whenever that might be. But the Turzents and Commonwealth may very well not bother with Earth for quite some time or never at all."

"We can't count on that." Warren's misgivings were growing the more he thought about the situation. "What was Ztar _thinking_ naming me as representative?!"

"I would guess he was thinking about what was best for Earth's future. You obviously made a great impression on him," Charles opinioned.

Charles watched/felt Warren's anxiety intensify; wings tight to his body and the nervous pacing. Perhaps this was too much too soon. Yet another way the Ztar had trapped Warren into a position without his consent. Maybe Xavier should have waited until Warren had had more time to mentally heal.

Many times over the past year, Xavier had attempted to get Warren to talk about what happened with Ztar. Each time he was rebuffed. That was so like Warren – always one to repress rather than deal with trauma. He wondered how much more his friend could do that and remain fully sane. Charles would keep trying for Warren's sake.

Warren paused by the window gazing at the sky. Xavier recognized the stance – the winged mutant wanted to escape into the air. A memory from long ago flickered through Charles' mind from a time when Warren was a student in class. He'd catch the teenager looking longing out the window at the sky – so wanting to be soaring free. That same look crossed his friend's face now. Charles felt Warren fight the impulse and a different look suddenly clouded the perfect face.

"From Emperor's whore to planetary representative – quite a leap!" The words spat out harshly toward the heavens.

Xavier was shocked at the bluntness of the disclosure. Warren had not confided to Xavier what Ztar had done to him. Implied once, yes. Directly stated, no.

Warren turned toward Xavier suddenly as he realized what he had said out loud. He looked at Xavier with wide eyes. Charles watched the color leave Warren's face.

"I- I'm sorry," Warren whispered, his head lowering.

The admission hung in the air like a heavy cloud. Warren sat down unsteadily in the window seat and closed his eyes.

Xavier maneuvered his wheelchair around from behind his desk to Warren.

"There is nothing for you to be sorry about, Warren." Charles left it at that. More talk right now would only be words. He simply sat silently next to Warren and waited.

Xavier let the waves of Warren's tumultuous emotions wash over him as his friend trembled with effort to maintain control. Feelings of shame and self-loathing most strongly emanated from his friend. It brought tears to Xavier's eyes. This man had paid a price almost higher than death for Earth's safety. Warren's life and self-determination had been taken from him and he lived with that every day for two long years. Add to that what Ztar had obviously demanded of Warren, and the price was very steep indeed.

There should be no shame – no loathing in Warren's sacrifice. Xavier could only image what Ztar had put Warren through. A horrifying combination – a powerful telepath and rapist.

Warren escaped the feelings that threatened to crush him by going to that now all too familiar place. _His_ sanctuary – _his_ refuge. Despite everything Ztar did, the Emperor could not take from Warren his source of tranquility and strength no matter what atrocities Ztar had inflicted on his body and mind.

Xavier felt the change within Warren – the raw emotions began to dispel. A quietness welled up and encompassed his friend. He watched Warren with admiration mixed with apprehension as he calmed.

Warren opened his eyes and looked at Xavier. He could see the concern on his friend's face.

"I'm okay," Warren said softly.

Xavier took Warren's hand into his. He wanted to pull Warren into his arms, shield him from the memories of whatever horrors Ztar forced on his friend. If the Emperor was still alive, Xavier would have killed him without regret. But Ztar was dead – denying Xavier vengeance. All Charles could do now is lend strength as Warren worked through the aftermath of the past two years.

"What ever you need, Warren, I am here."

"I know, Prof." Then a few moments later, Warren cocked his head and looked Xavier with his crystal-blue eyes and a smirk. "How about a strong cup of coffee?"

-- Finis --

_Author's note:_

_Thank you SO much for sharing in my imagination through five long chapters! Drop in a review and let me know your thoughts. I absolutely love hearing from readers. _

_If you've found your way to the end of "Sacrifice," you may be interested in the follow-up story named "Esserru." _

_Echo Dancer_

"_When you write from the soul, the pen moves itself."_


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